How Far We've Come
by Lucy Kay
Summary: Rather a strange story that mixes a forgetful girl from our world with connections to Sauron, creating political turmoil in Gondor. What are these stories coming from the East? Not a typical head case and certainly not a typical canon love story! FaramirxOC. Don't be afraid - I don't change anything canon! But I may just build on it... Picture is not mine. Complete! Thank you!
1. The Drive

**Reminder:: **I do not and never will, own any of Tolkien's characters, places, works, etc. I also am not affiliated in any way with The Killers or their music company in any way, nor do I own their music or lyrics. I just love their music like I love Tolkien's writing~

Hello, and thank you so much for clicking on my story! It's my first, I'm a bit nervous, and I'm just making things up as I go. Hopefully it doesn't get too dreadful! Please criticize politely and enjoy. Oh, and I plan on finishing this, too. I know that's a real turn off for people when they get caught up in a new story only to discover that the writer is sick of it and quits... Thought I'd let you know~!

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**Chapter One :: The Drive**

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"Sarah, come quick!"

"Grah…"

"Get your butt outta bed, you silly!"

Suddenly the covers were ripped off of me. I rose with them, snarling and foaming at the mouth—ready to tear into whoever dared interrupt my weekend hibernation. Exhaustion. High school did that to people.

My little sister was the one to challenge me. She was bouncing around like a blonde monkey, howling and squealing plans for the day. I couldn't even understand what she was babbling about in my morning, irritable fog. I just growled and swatted at her.

She dodged and hopped onto my purple comforter. She rolled around laughing like all five year olds do. This time I lost it and tried to slap her between my hands like you would do to a fly or mosquito. Stephanie yelped and scampered off to 'tell Mommy'.

Knowing I was going to get yelled at, I sighed and swung my legs off the bed to prepare to defend my case. I rubbed my brown eyes until they watered, trying to make myself come alive. I ran my fingers through my hair and yawned and stretched. I stood up, adjusted my shorts and tank top, and started shuffling across the white carpet out into the hall.

I pushed the door open to the bathroom and glanced into the mirror. I let out a huff that tossed my black bangs out of my face. They just fell back into place though, so I tried to ignore them as I got ready for the day—finally accepting defeat that I wouldn't be heading back to bed any time soon.

I pulled out my MP3 Player and speaker that I had snatched along with fresh clothes and plugged them in on the bathroom counter. Before long, the song 'Mr. Brightside' was blasting through the entire house over the sound of the rushing water of the shower.

"Comin' out of my cage and I've been doin' just fine. Gotta gotta be down because I want it all—" I started belting out the beginning of the song along with the stereo.

"—But it's just the price I pay! Destiny is calling me! Open up my eager eyes…! 'Cuz I'm Mr. Brightside!" I sang as loudly as I possibly could and suds-ed up my hair.

Since the song was on repeat, I sang it through a few times before my shower was over. "I never… I never…" I sang softly along with the end of the song as I dried out my hair and put my clothes on.

By the time I was done, I had my shoulder length hair combed out, I was showered, dressed in black pants and black graphic T-shirt, and my braces were cleaned. Yay, I feel pretty.

The second I crawled down the stairs into the kitchen, I was attacked by raucous shouting and yelling and screaming and laughing. Yup. That was life at the McLaughlin house. Dad was at the office already—he ran his own young business and had to work six days a week—Mom was making sausage and scrambled eggs in the same pan in mass quantities, and the rest of my siblings were scattered about arguing, talking, and fighting for food.

Confused? I have ten siblings, not including myself. Know what's really confusing? My parents have a sick sense of humor so they named each of us with a letter 'S'. I didn't know there were so many names that began with 'S'… First there's Stephen. He's the oldest. Steve is twenty and should be leaving sooner or later for college. Whenever that is. Next are Samantha, Sandra, and Sean. They are the triplets. All of them are nineteen—Sean being the only boy of the three. Next is me—Sarah—I'm seventeen. Tomorrow I'm eighteen, but I doubt anyone around here will notice since we have birthdays all the time. After me comes Sylvia. She's fourteen and a cheerleader. You can guess her personality. After Sylvia is Sophia who's eleven. Then there's Serenity who's ten. Sophia and Serenity are pretty close. They stick together like they're twins and they almost never talk to anyone but each other. Scott is eight and very proud of the fact. He rules the siblings who aren't in the two digits. After him is Stephanie—the monkey we met earlier. She doesn't talk much except to annoy—her specialty. Stephanie is told she's cute on a regular basis and she knows it. She's perfected what adults think is 'cute' and she gets away with nearly everything. The only thing I can remember she didn't get away with was when she tried to put Simon in the blender because she 'wanted to see if he could fit'. Of course, the runt of the family is Simon. He's only three and he's a climber. Literally. He's normally scaling Dad or Steven, but his latest target has been the refrigerator, so Mom has to keep an eye on him.

Our house was madness and since I woke up last, there was barely enough food left for me. Of course, Mom reminded me of this as I stepped up to take my ration. I had plugged in the headphones when I was going down the stairs and was still listening to the same song as I held out my plate.

"Sarah, up late again? You can't keep doing this, Hon, or you're going to starve!" She laughed although it was a perfectly serious statement.

I shrugged, grabbing a couple sausages and a napkin. "Eh, it's worth the extra sleep." I was suddenly shoved by Sylvia who was pushed by Samantha on accident. There was a burst of shouting as I made my way out of the kitchen. I called to Mom: "Remember what I said, Mom? You seriously need to leash a couple of these guys!"

"Don't talk like that, Sarah!" Mom grumbled good-naturedly.

"Oh, yeah? How about a shock collar for Simon? He's on the fridge again."

"Wha—? Simon! Come _here_!" Mom scrambled away from the stove for a second to retrieve her son. "And don't even think like that!" She added to me.

I nodded, not taking it in, and left the house. I sat down on the front porch step and ate my sausage breakfast in the late morning sun of October. As I munched, I looked around our little suburban street. It wasn't a development, but the houses were close enough it could have been. Our street didn't have a fancy name like developments did though—nothing like 'meadow' or 'lane' or 'wood'. We lived on 684 Spencer Road. Heh. I remember how Dad wanted to name Simon 'Spencer', but Mom argued that was our street name and that would've been weird. Agreed.

I finished, wiped my hands and mouth on my napkin, and tossed the napkin into the trash can near the front step. As I was about to swallow, I gulped and gagged. Horror stricken, I pulled a long blonde hair out of my mouth that was with my food. _Gross!_ But that's what you get in such a crowded place full of blondes. Everyone in there was blonde. Except me. After begging and pleading and whining and even a little attempt at bribery I finally got my hair dyed black. It made me feel less like a clone.

There was a sudden beep of a horn and I looked up, startled.

"Hey, Sarah! You gonna sit around all day or what? Climb in!" A girl waved from the back seat. It was a relatively close acquaintance of mine named Megan. She was kind of wild and rebellious, so I got along with her, but she was obnoxious, annoying, and happy which were immediate turn offs for me.

I shrugged and looked at the front seat. Katie (a preppy friend of Megan's) was riding shot gun next to the driver who I didn't recognize. I walked over to them slowly and leaned into the back window.

"So you comin'?" Megan prodded excitedly.

"I dunno. Where ya goin'?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Who cares! We have licenses and gas money, so we're just going for a drive!" Katie laughed and snorted. She then continued to text whoever and ignored the rest of us.

"Hm…" I pondered. I looked back at the house and groaned inside. Mom would probably make me do chores or something helpful and educational. Gross. "So who're you?" I pointed at the guy in front.

"David."

"Okay, doesn't sound like a convict's name—I'm in." I shrugged and hopped in. I slammed the car door shut as my mother came out of the house.

"Sarah! Where are you going?"

I looked to the others. "Mall!" I shouted.

"Do you have your cell phone?" She fussed.

"No…" I groaned. I hated carrying cell phones. What a pain. Bulgy, loud, and a way for anyone to keep in contact with you. YOU CANNOT ESCAPE. Shudder.

Mom hurried up to the car and looked at us all. "Okay… Want to borrow my phone?"

"We won't be gone too long." Megan smiled innocently.

Mom hesitated but smiled at me. "Be back before eight, okay? I'll need help with dinner."

"Okay, Mom. Promise." I grinned.

"Who're you?" Mom asked, looking suspiciously at David.

"Uh… David?"

Mom cocked her head to the side. "Hm. Doesn't sound like a criminal to me. Okay, have fun guys!" Mom waved. After we took off, everyone laughed at me.

"Gee, I wonder if you two are related?" Megan giggled.

"Eh, stop it."

"Okay, okay. So you serious about coming back by eight?" Megan asked doubtfully.

"I guess I'll try. She really _does_ need help with dinner."

"You serious?" Katie gave me a disgusted look.

"Do you have thirteen people to cook for? Didn't think so." I barked coldly.

Katie shrugged and turned back around. It was quiet for a bit as we all did our own thing. Katie texted, Megan bit her nails, I stared out the window, and David drove just a little bit over the speed limit.

Katie and Megan started chatting it up about Twitter or Facebook or whatever so I decided to bug David about the speed limit.

"Hey, David, right?"

"Yeah? You Sarah?" The boy with short, brown, spiky hair looked into the rearview mirror at me.

"Yup. You know you're like, ten over the speed limit?"

"Yup."

"Okay…?"

"Gives a nice breeze, don't it?"

"Well… True, but so does sixty."

"Chill out, Sarah. I've been driving for a whole year." He grinned.

"Wow. Gee. I feel so much better that I'm with an experienced driver." I slumped back sarcastically.

"Glad to know."

I rolled my eyes and continued to stare out the window. It was probably noon and I was getting bored. The trees along the highway tore by and soon we turned off on some exit or other. Why was I here again? Was driving supposed to be fun? When were we going to do something interesting?

David seemed to be getting faster the smaller the roads became. After another hour we were speeding along at nearly eighty miles an hour down a back road with nobody on it. Megan turned up the stereo, announcing to us that it was her favorite song, and started screaming out the lyrics. Ugh. Terrible! At least I did that in the privacy of my own home… I didn't even like the original version of this song…

David drove with the fast techno beat and sped up the car even more. I was getting kind of antsy now. I kept fidgeting in my seat and was constantly leaning over to see how fast we were going. After we hit eighty-five, I lost my patience.

"Okay, seriously, slow down. This isn't cool."

"Oh, like you would know. If you didn't want to come, Sarah, you didn't have to." Katie scoffed, still glued to her phone. She flipped her bleached hair and rolled her goopy eyes at me. I doubted she even knew how fast we were going.

"Yeah, Sarah, lighten up! We do this all the time—it's no big deal." Megan assured.

I didn't feel reassured at all though. I crossed my arms and slouched further into my seat—if that was possible. This was wrong and I knew it. But what could I do? I was stupid enough to refuse a cell phone, we were miles from my home, and I couldn't just get out of the car now. I would have to wait until we drove back. In the meantime, all I could do was cross my fingers and pray we would live.

We stopped around three for a bathroom break. We were at McDonald's, so we decided to have a bite there, too. Megan and I sat down at a table in the center of the room while David and Katie went up to order for us.

"I hope they're not expecting me to buy—I didn't bring any money." I sighed and stared at the boring cream walls covered with advertisements.

"Ha, me too!" Megan giggled. I kinda laughed with her as the others appeared with a bunch of fries and sodas.

Great. Just great. I hate pop. Well, at least I don't have to pay…

David handed me what looked like a Sprite and I sipped it distastefully. I munched on the plate of fries as everyone settled in and did the same.

Katie had a million things of nothing to talk about to Megan and once again David and I were left out of the loop. I was mad at him for not slowing down though, so I didn't say anything to him.

Soon we were back on the road. At first, we were at a normal pace and I was very grateful. But just as I thought we were going to survive, David started speeding up again.

"Hey, how far are we away from Kirkwood?" I asked. It was where we all lived and went to classes for senior year.

"About fifty miles." David answered.

"Okay." I nodded. Far, but close enough. We seemed to be heading home anyway, so it wasn't a big deal. I should be home in time to keep my promise to Mom, too.

We drove for a really long time in silence. If driving around all day at neck-breaking speeds not talking is fun to these people—they're socially inept crazies. I told myself I wouldn't be doing this again anytime soon. I can't believe this was my whole Saturday!

I started to nod off as the sun started to set. It must've been somewhere close to seven and I was bored out of my mind. Sleep sounded like a good idea, but I kept feeling that if I fell asleep, David would start driving faster.

Before I knew it, Megan was shaking my shoulder. "Sleepy?"

"Uh-huh." I nodded and sat up. It was dark outside. "How long was I out?"

"Eh, about two hours?" Megan asked the front. Katie nodded but kept texting.

"Seriously! Crap, Mom's probably gonna be ticked." I looked out the window and was surprised we were in the countryside and not suburbia like I was expecting. "Where are we?"

"Dunno." Megan shrugged.

"Can we go home soon? Please?" I asked.

"Bored?" Megan asked disappointedly.

"Sorry." I shrugged.

"Okay. David, where's home?"

"Close." He answered.

"Time?"

"Fifteen? Twenty minutes?" He guessed.

"Sound good?" Megan asked.

"Yeah, thanks." I nodded, feeling much better.

I sat back, much more relaxed, and waited for the scenery to become more familiar. I finally started recognizing things through the dark as we passed the closest farm to my house. Luckily, we seemed to be going to my home first.

I actually became so comfortable that I didn't realize that the car had sped up again. The headlights passed quickly—shining their light on the trees and road signs that whipped passed. So fast, you couldn't even read them.

Just as I was getting nervous again, my worst fears were realized…

David didn't see the coming bend in the road. Instead of turning right, the 1993 rusty white Volvo flew off the road and into the tree line. Megan gave a yelp and Katie finally showed emotion because her phone was thrown from her hands by the bump. She started to scream bloody murder. David gave the wheel a great turn to the right to try to steer the car back to the road. He wasn't strong enough to go against inertia and make a complete donut, but he turned the car completely to the side so that David and I were hurtling towards the tree line.

There was a lump in my throat. Even though I was terrified, I couldn't scream or even have time to panic. Everything was happening so fast. It was instantaneous. It felt like an earthquake and pressure seemed to be squeezing me from every side. The rear of the car—my door specifically—smashed into something with an enormous amount of force and I was jostled from side to side. Glass shattered and throughout it all, Katie's screams were the only things that filled my ears other than the sound of the bending and twisting metal of the car.

_My seat belt. My seat belt. My seat belt is crushing me._ The seat belt held me in and pinned me to the side of the car that was wrapping itself around the tree. I was bent with it all. The pressure was too much. All of this happened in a few short seconds. There wasn't time for pain.

And suddenly…

I was blind.


	2. A Second Chance

**Reminder:: **I do not and never will own anything related to Tolkien in any way. Just love his stuff and I want to expand! I mean no harm! I'm an innocent little girl! xD

Okay, with that out of the way: Thank you so much for the fantastic reviews! You guys motivated me to put up another chapter so soon. Totally made my day!

Another thing:: This chapter may be a bit confusing, but I haven't really made up any people of my own yet in Middle-Earth except for poor, disoriented Sarah. (Oh, and sorry about the stupid rhyming thing of mine. I couldn't think of what else to do...) Just as a heads up, I wanted to switch things up a bit by using a couple of wizards who weren't delved into as much as I would have liked from Tolkien... I don't know what they would be like according to him, but I'm doing my best to make them as what I think he would have liked... What can I say? Thanks so much again and enjoy the next chapter~!

EDIT:: Centering (for some strange reason) really isn't working out. At all. So I won't be using it anymore. It may not look as neat and tidy, but I hope you won't mind!

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**Chapter Two :: A Second Chance**

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I couldn't move; I couldn't feel. There was nothing but white.

_Am I dead? No. Think logically, Sarah. If you were dead, you wouldn't be thinking about whether you're dead or not. Would I…?_

I felt around in the blinding whiteness for anything—any presence. I tried to look down at my hands, but they were invisible to me. The force against my efforts felt like similar poles of a magnet being shoved together unsuccessfully. I wasn't even sure if I had a head or eyes to move. I was alone and confused and I felt more pressure. Pressure from the pulsating light that was surrounding me at all sides.

I tried to talk, but I found no words. I was trying to speak a language I didn't know in a place that didn't know sound. I was blind, and lost in the light. I would remain like this for all eternity.

An infinite passed. Time seemed to race by and I felt weary of nothingness. I was impatient for anything—anything at all. I would have given everything for an answer to my nonexistent cries. Where was salvation? Where was hope? Where was I? My being was floating through an endless sea of white night.

Just as I was about to lose all hope and fall into despair, there was a voice. But it wasn't a voice at the same time. As I swam in the endless void, comforting words floated through my subconscious. They were words I was sure I had never heard before, but they ran through my head in a steady rhythm. The voice was the voice of many and it was the voice of one. It didn't belong to one gender of man and it didn't speak any specific language. It just spoke to me and I understood. It spoke and I heard.

_After your toils,_

_After your snares,_

_The light has caught you unawares._

_Stolen of life,_

_Fear in death,_

_You have been given another breath._

_Come to a world you have not seen,_

_Awaken, Child, from this dream._

_To a life that could have been,_

_For this is your chance to live again._

I wanted to ask questions—so many questions with a voice of my own that I didn't have. But I couldn't form them in my invisible mouth or I had long forgotten them by the time I felt I could really talk. To my surprise, the white light all around me got even brighter. I tried to cover my eyes or at least shut them from the light that was burning into my very soul, but there was no way to do so. The light grew and grew until I felt a hot wave of it press over me. The wave cooled and became warm and thin like a summer's breeze. The breeze freshened and I could smell again. The damp leaves of autumn…

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It felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I lay gasping, my face down in the ground. I coughed and wheezed for a bit before I realized how cold I was. Shivering, I pulled my face away from the browning grass and looked to my left.

My hair was blocking most of my view though it baffled me at first. It was a crisp, faint blonde and it was lengthy. I gulped down the saliva in my mouth and ran my tongue over my straight teeth. Shaking, I pulled my hands in front of my face and noted their pure white glow. I was paler than… Paler than… I had no idea.

I tried to pull myself up and look around. There were orange, brown, red, and yellow leaves tipped with green blowing throughout the tough grass I was lying on and some were caught in my long, straight hair. Just as I started to take in the small clearing of a forest I was in, I realized I was naked.

Feeling very human, uncomfortable, and scared, I quickly sat up—regaining my senses. _What happened? Where am I?_

Looking around wildly for anyone in the area, I was relieved to believe I was at least by myself in my humiliation. My head was spinning and I felt sick with light-headed perplexity. I tried to cover up the best I could, but my arms and legs felt very weak and I soon found out I couldn't stand when I tried and everything felt wobbly. So much for making a dress out of all this grass like a real survivalist…

I felt horrible and alone. My head was swirling and I was sure that the world was doing the same thing. I tried my best, my very best, to remember how I got here, but nothing came. All I could remember was white light… and a poem of sorts… I think.

Tears filled my eyes as I panicked. How would I survive? What if I just wanted to curl up and die? Why can't I remember anything! This couldn't be heaven!

I looked around at the grey skies and dying trees. Past them were things in a forest unseen and a growing, thundering blackness in the sky to my right.

_No. This can't possibly be heaven…_

_Then—back to that age old question—where the hell am I?_

I shook my head, drying my tears that were blinding me and tried to scramble up to a standing position. Luckily there was a rather large rock nearby that I used to pull myself up with. I felt like a newborn—learning how to walk for the first time. My legs shook underneath me as my arms and hands clawed and struggled with the boulder to get myself to an upright position. I let out a groan and finally settled on just a leaning position.

I let out a tired sigh. I felt like sleeping I was so exhausted. But… I can't just pass out here! In the middle of nowhere! Something inside me told me I had to get moving… But where was I going? Where was home? Where could I go? Was I supposed to go somewhere? Did I hit my head and simply forget?

I shivered as another fall wind swept through the trees. _That's it—I'm going to die. Huh… Perhaps I should just let myself—_

"Ho, there!"

"AH!" I screamed and fell behind the boulder. My own voice scared me. I wasn't quite used to hearing sound yet… Everything seemed very strange and new to me… Not your average case of amnesia, I suppose. The voice came from directly across from me, so the boulder shielded me from any perverted eyes.

"Fear not, I come in peace, maiden!"

It was a man's voice—definitely a man's voice. Awkward. Awkward. Awkward. Awkward.

I whimpered and sunk deeper behind my rock.

"What is your name?"

I gulped, very confused. I felt stunned. I tried to form words, but no words of mine seemed to make any sense…

"Can you walk?"

I peered over the rock at the shadow approaching from the trees. He was wearing the strangest outfit I had ever seen—or so I say now. It was an old man cloaked completely in blue—his tall, floppy hat, his dark blue cloak, his robe, boots—everything was a hue of sky blue. He had a white beard and his face looked kind. Although, it was hard to see his face through my embarrassment at having no clothes to describe for myself.

The man must have guessed my predicament because when he tried to approach the rock from the right, I screamed at him not to. He then courteously took off his cloak and tossed it to me from a distance.

"It's not much to give a lady, but it's more than you have."

With agility I didn't know I had, I snatched the cloak off the rock where it landed and ducted back behind the rock. I simply smiled to show my thanks since I wasn't quite sure how my voice was feeling at the moment. As I wrapped the weather beaten cloak about myself, I instantly felt the warmth it could contain and the shelter from the wind.

"Thank you!" I said, voice cracking, as I tried to stand, holding the cloak together with both my hands.

The old man now came up to me to help me to my feet. "You have been through much, young one." He observed as I collapsed. I barely noticed the skeptical look on his face.

"S-sorry. I'm just… shaken..." My eyes fluttered, trying to close themselves into sleep.

"My name is Alatar. Please—allow me to take you to refuge and help. It is not far from where we are. Can you walk, maiden?"

Honestly, I had no idea what he was talking about. Half the words he just said seemed to pass right over my head. "I'm not sure… I'm just confused. And very tired." I mumbled the last part.

"Lean on my staff then—I can do without." He held out an old, gnarled stick to me. Alatar saw the doubtful look on my face, so he insisted. "Please, maiden, you are weak. There is a short but rough walk ahead and you need the support."

Feeling sick to my stomach, I reached out for the cane. I clumsily held it with one hand and kept a firm grip on the cloak to keep it shut against the gentle breeze.

Alatar supported my left arm as I dug the stick into the ground at my right. We made slow progress like this away from the clearing… The clearing where I was born.

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Alatar didn't say much as he helped me walk out of the rather small section of woods. He must have understood that I was tired. Of course, he was probably curious why a girl was out in the middle of nowhere without any clothes and had the strength of a toddler, but I was thinking the same thing. Anyway, I had a strange feeling I shouldn't say anything about the White Time (—as I now freely called the time before I woke up. I dunno, it sort of has a ring to it, doesn't it?). It was my first memory of my life that I wouldn't forget any time soon. And I felt it was private.

The trees thinned out and finally disappeared. The terrain grew very flat like a wheat field. The grass was brown and dank. It reached the knees and felt like swimming when you had to wade through it. If you tried to go too fast though, it whipped against you and hurt terribly.

Across the field, only about a hundred yards or so, sat a campsite. The tents were small and cream colored. They were all grouped fairly close together, but it mystified me why someone would gather in the middle of a field. It was so open… And for some reason, I felt it was dangerous.

_But dangerous? From what?_ I chided myself. Still… There was something in the air here that foretold of something sinister. It wasn't something one could easily explain. The air felt heavy and stifled. Like a storm was coming. It was tense.

"Careful." Alatar steadied my shoulder. I nearly fell face forwards into the grass. My legs were giving out as was my mind. I've never been so tired before. I felt like I hadn't slept in a week and I hadn't eaten or drunk for days on end.

"Thank you…"

"What is your name?" Alatar repeated his question from before.

"I..." I thought of this simple question and felt completely baffled. Here was my rescuer, asking a perfectly normal, innocent, first-grade level question, and I could not for the life of me answer it. "I don't know."

Alatar seemed to mull this over for a bit, almost like he was wondering if it was a lie. "You _have_ been through much…"

I couldn't help it. My knees gave way and I fell against the supple grass. Alatar wasn't quick enough to catch me in time. My eyes shut and I immediately started to doze.

"Not now." I felt his hands pull me to my feet. I still had my left hand taught around the cloak to keep it closed, but my other hand had dropped his staff. He now took it back and tapped it against the ground. There was a small light that emitted from its tip.

I was too sleepy to be shocked by this mystery. His signal was immediately answered by a whistling sound. I opened my eyes enough to see that men were coming from the encampment to aid Alatar and me. I fell asleep standing until they arrived, panting from their quick run.

Alatar mumbled some things quickly to the three men who came. I didn't protest as I was picked up off my feet. I dozed for the rest of the walk.


	3. Camp in the East

**Reminder:: **I don't own any Tolkien! It's all... Tolkien's!

Phew, two chapters in one day? I'm on a role! xD

So I decided to go into the undescribed lands in the far East above Mordor where wild men live and resist Sauron as best as they can. Others who live there, obviously, join the forces of Mordor and betray the race of men. But hopefully I don't make that too confusing to understand! Enjoy this next chapter, the next one is coming soon~

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**Chapter Three :: Camp in the East**

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I awoke to the sound of a trumpet. It was more like a horn, I suppose—deep and animal-like was its call. People were peering out of tents at us as we passed them, but most went about their business, not even giving us a second glance. As we walked down the lines of rag tag tents and small fires, I realized that there were no women around. And by all the leather, chain mail, and weapons I figured this was some sort of army.

But we pressed forward. Men who looked like the hills themselves started to whisper and talk freely about the 'strange maiden from the sky'. Of course, I wasn't expecting my predicament to be normal, but sheesh, I'm standing right here people.

After our small group passed the main causeway of tents, we stooped low into a white tent. This tent didn't sag as poorly as the others, but its tent poles were still lopsided and easy to rip down. Perhaps Alatar was the leader of a nomad group or something.

"I shall have clothing and bread brought before you. Please wait here a moment." Alatar nodded to the man carrying me. I was placed on a cot in the corner and they all left.

I opened my eyes—my curiosity stronger than my exhaustion for the moment—and peered around the tent. It was very small on the inside and rather crowded. Books, maps, and manuscripts were scattered helter-skelter about the place on the floor and on the table and chair. The table was in the center with a chair and I was on a moth eaten cot in the left corner with many blankets. There were a few packs and trinkets about the place, too. Just as I leaned over to fall back asleep, Alatar returned with two other men behind him—both bearing Alatar's promised items: food and clothing.

Alatar then whispered something to the first man. This was the man who carried me back. He must've been in charge. They both looked at me and the man behind them said something in a different language. It sounded old. It was rough, harsh, and masculine, but it was lovely in its own weird little way like all languages are once you get used to them.

"Here are your things as promised. Perhaps after you have rested, you will be more at ease to answer some questions." Alatar said. The first man took the basket from the second and then set both the pile of cloth before me and the small basket.

I nodded and smiled. "Thank you very much."

With that all three of them left. I heard a bit of what they were saying as they departed. The second man said something like: "She speaks Westron?"

Westron? So that's what my voice is called…

I opened the basket and peeked inside. There was a small loaf that looked like a rock, but I assumed that was the bread. It looked like the kind the pastor on Sunday would tear in two and say: "—this is my body, broken for you—". There was also something wrapped in cloth that looked like a very stingy glob of butter and a container of some sort. I decided I would give the container a look after I had gotten some clothes on. It felt like I was just wearing a really long towel.

Careful not to remove the cloak quite yet, I started pawing through the pile of fabric that the men had brought me. Of course I was going to wear it, but I was unsure how… They probably didn't have girl's clothes, but these men's clothes were close enough. I mean—there was a skirt-like dress and everything.

After laying out all the clothes how I thought they should go, I started to put them on piece by piece. Luckily, there was a sort of underwear for me to start with. The rest of the outfit took me quite awhile to piece together and experiment with and take off and try on again. When I was finally comfortable, I wore tight white pants and a long white long sleeved shirt which could only be assumed to be a tunic. Over the pants and shirt, I had put a black leather jerkin on. There was a black sash/belt that I tied about my middle that gave me more of a figure—what little flat-chested figure I already had. I then turned to the soft brown boots. Lacing them and tying them proved to be too difficult for me, I simply couldn't remember how, and I finally decided to ask about them later. After everything was done, I felt like Link from The Legend of Zelda video games—utterly ridiculous and ready for Halloween.

I then turned to the basket. Ravenous, I tore the bread in half and dabbed it in the butter. It wasn't bad, but it took some getting used to—like hotel food. I gnawed on the crust of the bread for awhile and opened the canteen. I gave the liquid a suspicious sniff before sipping it. It smelled like alcohol. It wasn't water, but I was extremely thirsty. Feeling like someone was going to yell at me later for drinking it, I took a swig and swallowed hard. It tasted horrible, but it revived my wits a bit. Shaking my head, I put the lid back on it and stood. I quickly stretched and felt awake enough to at least look outside.

I cautiously parted the flaps that kept the tent private. Rugged men were walking to and fro, talking, eating, and sharpening weapons like swords and axes. Most all of them looked over forty and were very hairy and not very tall at all. My five foot four inch stature was taller than a few of them by a good five to seven inches.

The clouds that I had awoken to only a few hours ago were now blackened by night's approach. The crimson fires were the only lights of the field where these men of war camped. A man sharpening a spear noticed me staring at him. He smiled half-heartedly and held up his hand as a hello. I warily smiled back and quickly dropped the flap of the tent.

The cot was looking better and better by the second. Although it wasn't mine, I didn't feel shy enough not to use it. I dragged myself over to it, rolled on, and passed out.

* * *

The sun shone down through the opening of the tent and onto my face. I opened my eyes and shielded them with my hand. A silhouette blocked the sunlight for a fleeting second as my eyes adjusted. I sat up and stretched and yawned. I rubbed my eyes and saw that Alatar had brought the same basket I saw before but now it was filled for breakfast. He was dressed in his same blue robes that now that I wasn't insanely drowsy—found more bizarre than before.

"Are you yourself?"

I nodded. "Yes… I'm just…" I thought for a 'proper' word, but finally said: "—confused." For the millionth time.

Alatar frowned. "What about?"

I found his question rather silly, but he seemed to find it perfectly casual. He just smiled pleasantly and acted like nothing was out of the ordinary. Mental… case…? "I really have no idea where I am."

"You are in the vast country of Rhun."

Okay, that doesn't really tell me anything. He guessed as much by the look on my face. "I'm sorry, but I have no recollection at all… Of this world. Honestly, where am I?"

His frown deepened. "Middle-Earth."

Earth? What a strange name. But why's 'middle' in front of it? That doesn't make any sense at all. What—is this world under the world Earth's surface so that it's in the 'middle' of the 'Earth'?

I shook my head. This simply wasn't loading right.

"Perhaps a map may aid you?"

Alatar rose from the chair he had taken and turned to the wall of papers and books that lined the tent's interior. He finally found a suitable scroll and checked it. He nodded to himself and brought it to the table. I got up—shaky at first—and walked slowly to the table to pour over the map.

What I saw didn't really do much for me, but it was certainly interesting. The map was browned with age and crinkled in places. Alatar held it open as I stared at it—for a good fifteen minutes at least. It didn't take Alatar much longer to realize that I couldn't read a map. He started to explain and point out what was large amounts of water and what was land and what were mountains and rivers and cities. The map didn't show the entire world, it seemed. There was water on the western border and land everywhere else. The words were way beyond my level to even think about learning.

"This encampment is right here," he pointed. "The Sea of Rhun is the closest landmark to where we are, but we are a good distance west of there. There is also a small stretch of mountains to the east. The forest of Mirkwood is far to our northwest. West lies the Brown Lands. There is nearly nothing of interest to our north until the river Celduin. Ered Lithui is three days as the bird flies to the south." The latter of which he would not say more of.

Mirkwood creeped me out for some reason. It sounded like a word I knew... I thought the entire map rather small, too. It's a Small World After All? But if not even an inch of the map took three days to 'fly' across, then this world was rather vast. And assuming that no one here could fly (well, as far as I know… this place is pretty strange, so I shouldn't be surprised) then it would take nearly five or six days to get there.

"So… What are you doing?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Let me re-phrase that." I nodded. "Why is this camp here? I mean—what's its purpose?"

The old man looked uneasy. Like he wasn't supposed to say or he wasn't sure. Hesitant. "I would like to ask more of you, if you wouldn't mind, before I made my decision to share."

I nodded. Quite understandable, I thought. I didn't see why I shouldn't trust at least him anyway—he really did rescue me and gave me food and shelter. I owed him.

"Obviously, you are not familiar with Middle-Earth at all. Unless of course you are quite an accomplished liar. But no, there is honesty and indisputable bewilderment in your eyes when you speak and listen—this I can tell. But some foul trick of the enemy? You still may be."

"Enemy?"

"Wait a moment, please. Don't be hasty."

"Sorry."

"No, no, it's quite alright. Now as I was saying… You may not be worthy of trust as of yet. Yet." He stopped the question on my tongue. I sat back and respectfully listened from there on out. "Still… Very curious you are. A lost, helpless maiden in the middle of nowhere—so conveniently near our camp, I might add. The Enemy either has schemed something more clever than what the greatest wizards could have predicted or you are genuine. Over the past few days I have done some thinking on the subject and—"

"Wait a moment! Days?" I asked, nearly choking on the words.

"Yes, Lady. You have been in the dark for three days."

Three days! I liked to sleep in, but I would never sleep in past noon! Ridiculous! I had no idea I was that tired…

"I'm sorry—it just came as quite a shock to me. You see, I had no idea… It's just… everything's so new to me." I apologized for interrupting him a second time.

Alatar simply eased himself back into the conversation from where he left off. "I have done some thinking and I have decided that you can be trusted for the most part. Of course—I shall have to keep an eye on you, but you seem rather harmless." At this he smiled.

I smiled back, feeling much calmer now. It's odd to say, but now that I had woken up without clothes, slept for three days, and spoke with an old guy dressed completely in blue in a camp full of warriors—nothing seemed strange to me about this sense of discovery and recurring amnesia. It just took some 'getting into the swing of things' attitude. I knew my amnesia wouldn't last forever, and when it was gone, I could go right back home.

To get rid of my amnesia faster, I figured I would try my best to learn about the world until something clicked. "So… who exactly are you, Alatar? I mean—" I fumbled a bit with my question before it finally came out and when it did, all my questions sort of burst from my mouth before I could stop them: "—you're certainly different from all these men here. And who are they? What are they doing? Why is this camp here? Is this an army? Did you say 'wizard' before? Do you have books? Can you teach me how to read? Do you know of anyone else in this world, or is this it? I saw swords out there; will I need to learn how to use one? Do I have to worry about my safety?"

Alatar laughed, a clear and merry sound, and held up his hands to slow me down. "Calm! One question at a time or you will get answers right in a row such as: 'yes', 'nay', 'perhaps'!"

"Okay, sorry. I'm just so confused!"

"With right to be. Yet so am I and all these men." Alatar stroked his beard for a few minutes and finally stood and walked to the 'door'. "I'm afraid that I will hold any further questions and answers until my comrade returns from the east. He should come 'round soon yet not soon enough I fear. In the meantime, stay close within the camp and rest. You are still very weak, young maiden. For now, I bid thee freedom of this tent—it is yours for now. I shall return with Pallando, but now I travel in search of him. Look for us within the fortnight."

"Wait… You're leaving? What will I do? I mean—what's a fortnight? I can't really sleep the whole time."

Alatar smiled. "Two weeks. I'm sure you'll find some way to help. There are plenty of things to be done. Enough said! Fare well, Lady. In a pleasant future may we share counsel."

And with that, the man in blue left the tent.


	4. Chauvinists

**Reminder:: **I do not own anything that Tolkien has created or is affiliated with.

Thanks so much for the reviews, Distant Lands! This chapter's for you. =3 I would've had this up yesterday, but my sister had college stuff to do on the internet so she hogged the computer during all the human hours of the day. Anyhow, hope you enjoy and please comment and critique!

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**Chapter Four :: Chauvinists…**

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Alatar left just after our talk. I came to see him off, but he didn't say much to me—it was obvious he was in a hurry. He could speak the language of the men of course and he said things to them, too—orders most likely. He then mounted a brown horse—something that looked like an Arabian. It had black stockings (not literally, but once again, I wouldn't be surprised) and a flowing black mane. There was a white diamond that ran from its mane to its pink nose. There was a ruddy saddle—a saddle that had many horses to master and many years of use. With a pat and a call, Alatar and his horse raced off to the east, leaving me with the soldiers.

I mean—I knew they had to be soldiers. But… soldiers of what? It was obvious by all the weapons present and nearly everyone was practicing fencing at some point. Their armor was no good or it didn't exist. It was a poor army, but a determined one. I just wondered what they were fighting for. Were they the good guys? I wouldn't want to be considered a bad guy…

I wound my way through the tents and finally found the one I was looking for. It was Alatar's tent, but now I could temporarily call it my own. I entered it, trying to avoid the eyes of all the people staring at me. For good reason—if there was a guy at an all girl's school, I would gawk, too.

Feeling a little grimy—there weren't any showers that I could see—I looked around for something to tie my hair with. I finally settled on just tearing a piece of my belt off. It was feeble and easy to get a long enough piece of fabric. My hair was very long—all the way down to my waist. I pulled it back and tied a bow. Satisfied, I strode to the cot and went to sleep. Alatar was right. I was still very tired.

* * *

Even though it was just past noon when Alatar left yesterday, I slept the whole night through. I woke up at what I guessed to be six or seven. I got to see the sunrise so I had to figure early morning. I wish there was an easier way to tell the time of day…

My amnesia seemed to be very scattered. I could remember a few choice things, but when it came to culture I was nearly completely lost. And the randomness of my forgetfulness was baffling me. So I could remember how to talk and put on a pair of pants, but I couldn't remember how to tie shoe laces? It was quite embarrassing having Alatar teach me how to do that. I felt like such a child… But was I? How old was I anyway? Whenever I tried to even remember my name, I got muddled and confused, but I can't remember my own age either? This way of thinking was constantly giving me headaches.

I stretched and stepped out of the tent. Men were moving about as usual—it was rare to have no movement. In fact, that never happened. There was always a watchman or someone still practicing or talking in the dead of night. I was wary to approach them because of their general rough appearance. They seemed to be wild and constantly angry. Not the most trustworthy people. After spending the first three days hidden and resting inside the tent since Alatar left, I finally decided I was strong enough to get up and walk around a little.

The moment I set foot outside the tent, the sunshine burned my eyes. I stood there for a moment, rubbing them and trying to take in my surroundings. The field I thought we were in the night I arrived was not really much of an open field at all. The encampment was close to a small range of mountains but still at a safe distance. The surrounding area was thin forest that branched off into a no man's land of dead grass, hills, rocks, and open plains. The thin division of forest kept the campsite out of sight and slightly out of place.

The camp was bigger than I thought it was at first, too, or more men had arrived; either notion was possible. From what Alatar let me hear, I had to assume that these men were on the brink of war and they were preparing themselves for an onslaught. There seemed to be a lot of politics involved though if I could not hear more than that.

Most of the men I passed as I walked down the rows of tents ignored me or simply looked up and gave a fair 'hello' and a wave. Others asked me how I felt, where I was from, what my name was, and even if I would like some food. I didn't answer many of these questions, almost looking rude and mysterious, but I really had no logical answer for these people. What could I say? I bumped my head and I couldn't remember a thing? That's almost what it seemed to be, but on the other hand… Something was very wrong. What world did I come from and what world was I in? Did I simply go back in time, or am I in another dimension? Honestly, these thoughts confused me, like trying to comprehend eternity, and I tried to keep them from my mind. All I knew was that I was alive and I would just roll with that until I finally keeled over.

"Young one!"

I turned around, outwardly confused.

"Yes, you there! The girl."

The voice was coming from the tent right before me. I parted it, a bit nervous, and peered inside. The man who carried me in on the first night was manually sharpening a blade. He did not look up as I entered the tent, but muttered: "Sit down."

I looked about for a chair, but I didn't see one. I sat on the floor and observed him for awhile. He had rough, shoulder length brown hair and matching eyes. He wore clothes very similar to mine only he had black plated armor, too. After a few moments of silence and scraping that the knife was making against the rock, he spoke.

"Alatar has ordered me to keep an eye on you."

"I understand."

He raised an eyebrow and continued talking. "Indeed… What is your name?"

"I don't know." I answered monotonously; I was used to this drill by now.

"How did you get so near our camp?"

"Again, I don't know."

"Who is your father?"

"Father?"

"Your parents? The people who raised you?" He asked me in a seemingly stupid fashion.

"I don't understand." I shook my head, waiting for further explanation.

"Neither do I." He mumbled and sharpened his blade a few more times.

I sat silently for awhile, watching the blade shine and finally got up the courage to ask: "What is your name?"

"My name? Why should I give you the courtesy if you do not give me your own?"

"But I… I don't remember mine."

"Well, fair lady, my name is Wolfling."

"Wolfling?"

"Is there a problem?"

"No!" I answered too quickly.

"I was named at the full moon after I had killed a warg… I did not deserve a name before."

"Didn't deserve one?" I asked. Perhaps it was personal, but I was honestly curious. Did I deserve a name?

"No."

Yup, it was personal. "Sorry…"

Wolfling sighed.

I perked up and asked another question. "Can I try?"

"Try?"

"With the—with the knife." I pointed.

"Sharpen my knife?"

"Is that odd?" I asked, downcast.

"No…" He didn't sound very reassuring.

"I'm sorry." I apologized again.

"It was an understandable mistake… At least you did not ask to use it!" Wolfling laughed heartily, shaking his head and sharpening his knife again.

"That is wrong, too?" I asked, seriously disappointed.

At this, Wolfling looked shocked. "But-you are a woman!"

I looked down at myself and then back up at him. "So I am."

"Well," he sputtered, "Lady, you are a strange one."

I smiled in spite of my rejection. I had been watching men practice with swords and daggers of all sorts and I wanted to give it a go, too. I was terribly bored and useless. What else could I do?

"So I am… forbidden?" I asked meekly.

"Of course. Much too dangerous." He muttered. As if that was the only excuse…

"You do not trust me."

"Correction, Lady, I do not and I cannot."

"Oh… fine then."

"What is that?"

"Nothing… I'm… looking for a word…"

Wolfling looked amused. "What kind of a word, Lady?"

"I'm not quite sure… It seems too informal to call you by your first name, does it not? Is there something else to call you by?"

Looking near enough to mockingly jolly, he laughed out: "Captain!"

Not understanding this humor, I nodded. "Thank you, Captain. May I go?"

"Go where?"

"Back to the tent." I said as I stood and brushed the grass from my knees.

He looked skeptical. "I will escort you there."

"Oh, please!" I breathed as the Captain stood and I followed him out. This time as we passed tents, men nodded and saluted. I felt rather important, even if I knew they weren't indicating me.

Captain Wolfling left me inside the tent and gave a quick bow/nod before he left. Feeling utterly trapped, I flopped down onto the cot with my arms crossed. What would I do for two weeks? Sit on my rump and do absolutely nothing of importance? Waste away until I was thrown out?

Feeling rebellious, I glanced around and found the blanket I had been using. I stuffed a few of the scrolls and papers under it along with the small, smelly pillow. I stood back and decided that it looked enough like a body to be safe to leave.

I looked around the tent floor, searching for a way out indiscreetly. The back wall was conveniently loose and I twisted my hand underneath the fabric. I lifted it and was glad to see a tent that was not facing the one I was in very close by. With a mischievous grin I lifted the fabric higher to its stretching point and stuck my head out. Wriggling like a worm, I squeezed out my shoulders and took a great deal of huffing and puffing for my hips. I finally slipped through and jumped to my feet. Wiping the dirt from my clothes, I snuck around the tent and quickly jogged through the tents to the area where I heard the most swords clashing.

After sneaking my way past four tents, there was a small sparring circle set up in the center of a circle of tents just up ahead. I ducted down behind a tent and made my way around it. With a quick peak in through the door, I saw that it was a storage tent. I dove inside and peered out through the bottom at the fighters.

Men were gathered about and laughing and drinking and egging each other on. I couldn't help but laugh along with them: silently of course. Some had started a fire as it was drawing closer to evening and many started to eat. I ignored the pangs of hunger and continued to watch. Even though I didn't belong, I felt I fit in somehow with them. Somehow.

A couple of men stood suddenly with swords. Men started to cheer and clap and my smile widened. It looked like they were about to spar!

The first man drew his sword to his face. The other bowed. With amazing agility, the first man dove forward and thrust his sword at his opponent. The second man dodged and fiercely swung his sword and beat the offending one away. They continued this same process, one after the other. Every second was suspenseful and if I was sitting, I would have been on the edge of my seat. It was hard concealing myself at this point; I wanted badly to go out and join the fun.

After a few more stabs and a mighty swing, the second man held his opponent at his sword point. Would he kill him? To my sudden relief, they both smiled and the second helped the first to his feet. Another man rose, placing his mug in the care of a friend, and drew his own sword against the victor.

The man who won the first parley won the next three until he was too tired for the fourth and nearly gave up. That victor went on for two more battles until he was beaten and the next won only the one and so on. It was great fun as the fire grew brighter and brighter and the darkness closed ever further in. The men continued on, as if it was a game, and I watched spellbound.

Soon the men started to thin and eventually there were but a few left. Feeling that I had seen enough and I should leave, I sat up, cracking every bone in my body in the process. A bit woozy after standing up so fast, I waited a moment for my vision to clear. My ears caught what was being said before I could see it though.

"Hold on! I'll go and get one."

Get one? The storage tent! That's where I am! I couldn't be found outside Alatar's tent. I would never be trusted! If they thought I was suspicious before…?

Panicking, I started running all about the tent looking for a place to hide. The back wall!

I pulled up the back of the tent up like I had done in Alatar's tent and shoved my head out. After quickly pulling the rest of my body along, scraping up my back quite a bit, I crawled away from the tent and raced through the rest until I found the one I was supposed to be in. Entering through the back wall, I was relieved to see that my pile on the cot was not disturbed. I tossed the scrolls and papers out and threw myself under the covers, waiting for the noises to go away.

* * *

My eyes opened in a haze. Suddenly I realized I was waiting for things to quiet down, not go to sleep. I sat up quickly and looked around. It was still dark, probably somewhere early before sunrise. Slipping quietly out of the blanket and off the cot, I fixed my hair into a fresh ponytail and peeked outside.

It was very dark outside. I could barely see the surrounding tents. So there was no chance that I would see if someone was watching me.

Just to be safe, I exited the tent out the back and carefully made my way to the circle I had seen last night. It was dark and I could hear lots of snoring as I crept passed the tents. With bated breath I entered the storage tent I had spent most of last night in.

It was darker than yesterday, but I had a good idea of what was in there. Three barrels on the right: check. Bundles of rope: check. Strange packages, food perhaps?: check. Jars: check. There it was! The middle jar had its lid disturbed and hastily put on at an angle. A sword hilt stuck out the top.

When I removed the lid, there were six swords tucked inside. I pulled out one and almost immediately regretted it. It was so heavy, I knocked the jar over, nearly smashing it, spilled the swords out with a clang, and dropped the blade so close to my foot I nearly lost my toes.

Fumbling with my words, I dragged the sword outside the tent. I dragged it to the middle of the circle and held it up with most of my strength in a defensive position. I tried the thrusting movement I had seen the first man do the night before and accidentally threw the sword.

"Eep!" I squealed involuntarily. I quickly covered my mouth and peeked around. Still no one showed themselves and still men snored. I ran over and retrieved the weapon and held it up once more. I swung back and forth and started to spin out of control. I stopped myself dizzy.

My head rolled a bit before I decided to try swinging the sword around again. _I could do this. I would do this. By the end of the night, I'll be able to use this sword!_


	5. Pallando and The Arrivals

**Reminder:: **The Lord of the Rings series was created by J.R.R. Tolkien and is in the ownership of his family, successors, and publishers, not me. I do not claim ownership, just obsession.

Hello, everyone! Thanks so much for the comment, Goldenfightergirl! Yes, it would suck very much. xD Although, I'm rather confused with your question… Do you mean where am I in reference to the canon cast of characters? That will be revealed shortly! n_n

I hope you guys like this next chapter~

EDIT:: Added on a little bit to Alatar and Pallando's conversation. Everything else is the same.

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Chapter Five :: Pallando and The Arrivals

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Of course, that was quite ridiculous. Sarah most definitely did not master the sword in one night, but she came back to the circle every night for the next two weeks to practice with the swords there. Eventually, she was able to lift it without much hassle, but she was still haphazard in her strokes and her aim was terrible. Still, she played fantasy hero and continued to watch the men practice in the evenings, longing to jump out and learn with them.

But over the two weeks, something Sarah did accomplish was gaining the trust of Wolfling. Thinking her an obedient little girl who stayed in her tent, he allowed her more freedom to roam about the camp and even eat with the others. Luckily, he also showed Sarah a place where she could clean her clothes and bathe. There was the smallest of ponds that met with a trickling stream that came from the cold mountains. Chilly though it was, Sarah was not hesitant about taking a long awaited bath. After she felt clean, she felt revived.

Over the course of the short two weeks, those who came in contact with Sarah were at a loss of what to call her. They could only call her things like 'girl', 'maiden', and 'fair lady'. Ultimately, the men started to refer to her simply as 'Lady'. And Sarah took it as her new name.

At this time, Alatar rode swiftly into the West towards the camp he left Sarah in. He returned with his good friend, nearly brother, the blue wizard Pallando. Pallando was able to rally a dozen men who were willing to make war against Sauron out of the East. All the others were worshippers of the Black Tower or in too deep to turn back. Those who were not coward followed Pallando and Alatar to meet the others like them in the last camp of resistance.

Sarah awoke early to the sound of horses and shouts. She could hear the hooves beating against the ground for she had rolled out of her cot again. Jumping up, Sarah quickly knotted her boots, threw on her jerkin, tied her belt and hair, and left to greet the wizards.

* * *

It was very early when Alatar returned. The sun was far from rising-I had gone to bed only a few hours before-as I moved through the shadows of men to find the one person who determined my fate. Fourteen riders were hopping off their saddles just up ahead and there was much conversation going on.

The two silhouettes with tall bent hats stuck out from the rest in their bright colors. At first, I could not tell them apart, but when they got closer I could see who Alatar was. Alatar looked much kinder. They both seemed to be the same age, but there were more wrinkles visible on Alatar's face. The second wizard was a bit taller and looked grave. At first he frightened me, but when he got close enough to see me in the darkness, he looked surprised himself.

Alatar was speaking rapidly in the language of the men. Wolfling was nearby and seemed to be giving a status report. Pallando added in a bit here and there and I noticed his voice was softer and quieter than Alatar's but felt almost ominous. He was like the kind of person who was normally soft-spoken, but if you got them angry they would blow up worse than any old grouch you knew.

They finally noticed my presence as I followed them and they all stopped and turned to look at me. I felt very self-conscious.

Wolfling said something, as if explaining and Alatar nodded and smiled.

"So did you remember your name?"

I shook my head. What a strange way to start a conversation… "No. They call me Lady though. I don't find it odd."

Alatar's smile widened. "Well, Lady, I would like you to meet a good friend of mine. Pallando."

The wizard was now properly introduced. Not sure what to do, I smiled and nodded. Pallando simply looked at me for a long time. He finally said: "Very curious."

I wasn't sure what to make of this, but Alatar led me back to his tent with Pallando. Wolfling went back to group the men who had just arrived.

Once inside the tent, Alatar took the chair with a heavy sigh and Pallando paced. I went over and sat on the cot, watching and waiting and feeling very sleepy.

_We cannot trust her, Alatar._ Pallando said in the tongue of the Easterlings.

Alatar shook his head. _I disagree. Although strange and new as it may be, I feel that the girl is harmless._

_It is not a matter of what you _feel_. When she proves to be a threat, you will regret speaking in front of her like this! Does she understand the language?_

_Only Westron it seems._ Alatar replied calmly. _But do you not see how young she is?_

_All the more easy to deceive!_

_Not how I see it. All the more innocent._

_You are soft at heart… It will kill us all someday! And if it's by the hands of this girl—_

_This 'girl' is not a threat, Pallando. She is simply confused. We have discussed this before… This mistrust goes beyond this girl here. You do not trust men._

Pallando frowned and sighed. _I cannot trust any man… Along with me, I brought those willing to listen and act against the Deceiver. They are obedient and loyal, but I do not know how far their loyalties or courage stretch… The race of men is ailing, Alatar…_

_That is why we are still here. Saruman lost faith in men—_

_He was wise to leave._

_You disagreed at the time. _Alatar reminded. _Saruman deemed the cause in the East to be a waste of time. You and I refused to give up on the men who still had the strength and will to resist Sauron. Many lives of men, Saruman left us to complete our mission alone. Will you too desert me?_

Pallando looked frustrated at the accusation for a moment, but he calmed and looked sad and weary. _No._ He answered shortly.

_Therefore, if you still trust me, this girl simply needs our help. She is not here by her own means, in fact, I have a suspicion that the Valar are involved somehow-_

_Yes, yes! The entirety of our time together since my last camp has revolved around this woman here. And this woman is a problem in my eyes._

_Well, how do you propose solving this problem?_

Pallando grumbled irritably. Finally he said: _I am not decided._

_What do you propose in the meantime?_

They both sighed and looked at the girl. She looked utterly confused and Alatar could have won his case then and there by the expression on her face.

"Lady?"

"Yes?"

Pallando watched carefully for any sign of a lie if Alatar was going to question her. This was not so.

Sarah got up from the cot and stood before Alatar as indicated.

"I want you to find the Captain and bring him here. Can you do that for me?"

Sarah nodded and hurried off with a second, nervous glance at Pallando.

"Why did you do that?" Pallando asked in Westron.

"It would be simple for her to escape if she wanted to—-perhaps this will prove to you her virtue."

"Preposterous!" Pallando shook his head. "A simple errand will prove her honesty? If she was as smart as I assume her to be, she would pick a wiser time! Fleeing when she is so close to two wizards full of information? No. No! I cannot trust this maiden. Everything is too conveniently placed."

Alatar nodded. "I agree that the coincidences are high-very high. But I still cannot agree with you, friend. I see there is no trouble for us with her."

Just then, the Captain came walking into the tent. Pallando spoke quickly: _Where is the girl?_

_I asked her to wait outside._ Wolfling answered, mildly defensive of his position.

"Lady!" Alatar called.

Sarah walked nervously into the tent and looked around. So this was it? Were they going to tell her if she was to go or stay?

"Sleep here tonight-we have interrupted your sleep long enough."

What an anti-climax…

The three men unceremoniously left the tent. I was soon alone.

So… I'm just supposed to sleep? How can I sleep now? Pallando's voice didn't sound happy at all. In fact, it sounded downright resentful. And I knew they were talking about me, I just knew it… But what could I do…?

There was a soft thrum coming from outside the tent. From my guess, it was coming from the circle where the men sparred. What was going on there? I couldn't leave or Pallando would never trust me… Oh, but just this once wouldn't hurt…

I got up off the cot and blew out the small candle on the table. The tent was pitched into darkness, but I did not need a light to assemble the blankets and pillows in the cot to make it look like I was there. I was quite used to that by now.

I ducted under the tent and took the usual path to the storage tent by the circle. Tonight there was a big bonfire and men were sitting all about in deep discussion. Everyone was very serious as they spoke with the new arrivals. More soldiers.

Alatar was next to Pallando a small distance from the main group of men. Captain Wolfling spoke the loudest out of all of them, but that didn't help me since I couldn't understand their stupid, irritating language. I felt like a child. Whenever people were around me, they spoke their own little language so that I couldn't understand. It was not only vexing, but it was very insulting.

The mood gradually lightened-I had to assume that the men had brought good news. Drinks were poured and everyone loosened up and smiled more freely. I smiled watching them and started to pick at the grass underneath me and tear it apart.

After about an hour, some men were happy enough to sing songs. I had only heard a few songs since I first got here and most of them sounded depressing. I wasn't quite sure what they were at first… They sounded like a strange, drawn out way of speaking. But when the men sang in Westron, it sounded like they were telling a story. Strange.

I listened to a man close by singing a song about a fallen soldier and his pride as he went into battle. It was very sad, but I still enjoyed it none the less. Another man then sang a song of drinking that lifted the mood by about a hundred decibels; it also caused another round to be poured.

Just as I was beginning to relax and feel like I should go back and sleep before dawn came, there was a loud rumbling sound that was followed by a sharp neigh. The horses were frightened out of their wits and were practically screaming as they stamped around in the grass to the far right. I sat up, much more alert and frightened myself.

I looked over where Alatar and Pallando were supposed to be, but they had disappeared. Scared that they would find me out of the tent, I quickly stood up and hurried to go back to the tent. When I crawled away and sprinted to my shelter, men were running about in a confused fashion all around. To my shock and horror, a fire blazed where Alatar's tent was supposed to be. A horse neighed and bucked up in the midst of the chaos. The dancing flames reflected a tanned beast equipped with an ancient saddle and blue robes. Alatar!

The wizard held his staff aloft and shouted orders to the men. Suddenly seeing me, he raced with his horse to my side. Grabbing me up with a force I didn't think he had, my arm nearly ripped from its socket as he swung me around and pushed me into an open, abandoned tent.

_What was that for?_ I angrily sat up, feeling dizzy. There was a throbbing going on somewhere in the back of my head-I must've hit it on something inside the tent. _And I thought that he was going to rescue me and bring me along with him on his horse!_

Feeling angry, I parted the tent to peer outside. I was just in time to see a thick, heavy dark leg pound by. Nearly screaming with surprise, I threw myself to the ground to hide. Peeking out from under the bottom of the tent flap, I saw that Alatar had saved my life. The strange… creature-like men looked much like the soldiers I had met only dead inside and rotting outside. Their faces were contorted in malicious glee as they slaughtered all those who moved. A particularly albino monster plated in armor started towards my tent. Thinking I would die, I ducted into the tent to find a place to hide.

Surprisingly enough, the tent collapsed around me. The suddenness of the event left me unprepared to shout or even take another step. The heavy tent poles smashed into me and brought me to the ground. The strange creatures had knocked the tent over-at least they hadn't burned it like the other unfortunate tents… At least yet. The middle pole swayed a moment before I felt it strike my head with all its weight. I saw hundreds of colors, a few dim torches, more running feet, a spurt of blood, and all was black.


	6. Lost

**Reminder:: **Anything referenced to from J.R.R. Tolkien's works is not mine. I refuse to claim ownership for such creativity, just for this fan fiction if it's worth it. I also do not own the lyrics to the song 'Mr. Brightside' by The Killers which I have used once more in this chapter.

The little ditty she hums is total crap made by me. I don't want to claim it, but I don't want to blame Tolkien for writing it. xD

Have a go at this rather short chapter and thanks so much for reading!

**

* * *

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Chapter Six :: Lost

* * *

The light was blinding and my head was pounding. With a tiny groan, I freed my arms from the rubble around me and rubbed my eyes. I felt like sleeping, but the bit of sun I could see through the torn fabric was enough to wake me up. What had happened last night?

My legs were numb and I could not move at first. It took some maneuvering as I twisted and turned around and finally sat up. I pushed the heavy center pole of the tent off my legs and felt the blood rush back into them with a tingly, uncomfortable force. After the prickling was gone, I rubbed my wrists and ankles and finally crawled out from the wreckage.

I lifted the flap of the tent and stuck my head out. "Ah!" I cried, clapping a hand over my mouth. A bloody, distorted face was lying only four inches from my own. "W-Wolfling…"

Scared and sick, I pulled myself out into the sunlight and sat next to Wolfling's dead body for a few moments. His armor was notched and his bleeding had stopped. He was long dead.

Afraid to stand, I crawled down the way that used to be a path between the tents. Bodies were scattered about and tents were collapsed or burned to ash. Most of the bodies were bodies of men, men I recognized, but there were a few of the strange creatures I had seen the previous night dead here and there. I stared into the face of the lifeless albino I had seen before I blacked out. He was stuck through the stomach and lay with a surprised look etched permanently onto his face. His eyes were large, yellow, and almost cat like. He had little to no scraggly hair and he smelt of mud and filth. Overall, a very disgusting being, I had to conclude.

"Alatar…" I realized and got to my feet. I started to run through the camp which was now plainly open and unguarded. I scanned the faces of the fallen and hoped that I would not recognize one of the wizards.

I lifted body after body to see face after face, but not one of them resembled a wizard. Just when I was losing hope and gaining nausea, a shred of blue fabric caught my eye. I ran like a lunatic to the spot and stared down. Dropping down to my knees, I gave the Arabian horse a stroke across its cold, tight face. Sniffling a little, I reached underneath to the saddle and carefully unhooked the piece of torn fabric that had been caught and left behind. Sky blue…

"Alatar?" I called out loud. The silence was overwhelming. The sky was dark and cloudy as usual, but I felt it was going to rain soon, or that it should to wash away the blood spilt. "Pallando?" I called a bit louder. There was no answer.

Realizing that I was the only survivor of the… raid, I wiped away a few tears. There was still the chance, the small glimmering hope, that the wizards escaped by other means… As long as I didn't find a body, they could always be alive somewhere.

* * *

I scourged the campsite for possible food. Disgusting as it may seem, I found packs of bread and water still tied to men. Some of their faces were mauled to the point that it looked like a vulture had already been and gone. Sick with the possibility that the creatures… _ate_ them… I did not look back.

After digging through some collapsed tents and stealing two water bottles, I had enough bread for my flight. I would have to leave. Immediately. This camp was not safe anymore, and although I doubted that the creatures would return to their victory ground, I could not be sure. I was sure that I would not be able to survive on my own for long though, and I would have to find help somewhere…

Stringing a beaten pack I had found lying next to a burned tent to my back filled with my provisions, I set off across the field in a sprint. I wanted to get to the cover of the trees. The tall grass felt like whips against my running legs and they even cut through my pants in places. Mercifully, the run did not last long and I was soon standing before the very boulder I had woken up at a little over two weeks before. I leaned against it for awhile, catching my breath and feeling just as helpless as I felt when I was here for the first time.

I let out all my emotions on a nearby tree trunk. I hit it, pounded it, kicked it, cried on it, and screamed at it. After completely losing my mind, I recoiled and sat next to the boulder to catch my breath.

What would I do? Alatar and Pallando are missing, Wolfling is dead, all the men are dead! Where could I go? What could I do?

Realization hit me like the stroke of a sword. _The map! Alatar's map! But his tent burned… Damn._

I opened the pack and looked at the belongings that were not mine. There was a pack of grass for some strange reason, a bottle of some sort of powdery substance, another bottle with an oily liquid, and a small intricate dagger. I took the dagger into my hands and stared at the sheath. It was patterned with skill and the design looked like wings of some sort going up both sides of the blade. I opened it to see the knife itself and it had the same wing pattern. Clicking the dagger back into its place, I tossed it into my pack and closed it. Alright… This was it… Think of what Alatar showed you… Think!

I racked my brains for something helpful I could remember about the surrounding landscape. Sadly, the most I could remember was the West, and that wasn't helpful at all. I remembered something about Eriador, Forodwaith… somewhere called Rivendell that Alatar had put high emphasis on… But what was that place that was South of Rivendell? Hundreds of miles it was, but I remember Alatar saying something about men living there… It was not Rhun, for that's where I was, but it sounded much like it… Perhaps I would remember on the way.

* * *

I set off across the brown landscape of dead grasses and rocks. The plain looked never ending against the bright western horizon.

I had been foolish and hoped that my journey would be undercover. I felt vulnerable and exposed in the flat lands. There was nothing I could do about it, but I hoped that I could travel under the cover of trees or cliffs or _something_. This bareness was intimidating and I felt that I was being plainly watched from all sides. Everyone could see me. Everyone was out to get me.

_Okay, panicking over. Pull yourself together! If you want to survive, you have to press on, eat little, and not panic!_ I told myself through closed eyes. Feeling I regained some of my bearings, I continued my walking until sunset.

My 'camp' was pathetic. It couldn't really be called a camp at all. I did not know how to make a fire and it was very cold. Basically, my feet gave up and I laid down where I was just standing. I curled up into a ball and hugged my knees, calling it 'camping'. This was ridiculous.

I did not sleep much on the first night. It felt like I was a lost child. I could see imaginary silhouettes in the distance and eyes gleamed out of nothing to frighten me. I had to admit, if it was my imagination doing this, my subconscious is brilliant.

* * *

Long story short, I walked every day for a week, ate all my food that I had so carefully rationed, and was weary. At night, I tried to press on, but my monotonous, silent walking was getting to me. I needed noise. A yell, a shout, a call, a growl-I would take anything at this point. If someone was really watching me and I was in danger, could they just get it over with so I didn't feel this constant, ominous threat?

When I went to sleep at night, I had recurring nightmares that I could not describe in the morning. They were images, nothing made sense at all. It looked like a story, maybe even my past, but the things in the dreams were so baffling. Every time the dream would start:

"_Open up my eager eyes…"_

_Black hair._

_Some kind of stone, smooth paved path._

_A girl's laugh._

_A roll of the eyes._

_Some kind of fizzy drink…_

The next part I had no idea how to describe. It just felt like an enormous pressure on my skull-like I had a headache-screaming, a line of trees, and then darkness until I awoke. These dreams always plagued my sleep, but when I woke up, I could not remember them at all. All I knew was that if felt like I hadn't slept the night before and I was exhausted all day long.

_

* * *

_

I give up… I give up…

My legs felt like they were broken. How many days I had I walked? When did I last have food? These thoughts made my stomach feel sick and my head spin.

_Think, think, think! What more can I do? What can I do to motivate myself?_ I looked back at the mountains and could see them in the far distance like a dark cloud on the horizon.

I tried to think of something to break the silence. I took a tiny sip of water and walked a few steps before stopping. Now what was it? There was a song… Yes, the one that the men were singing… Not the drinking song, but a soldier's song… Or was it something else? For the life of me, quite literally, I could not remember any words.

Thinking my journey done and that I had tried my hardest and failed, I was perfectly content to call it a night. Even if I only woke up a few hours ago.

_That was it!_

I whispered the words of the song I had heard as I slowly sunk down to the ground to sleep. "Starlight gleaming, downcast meanings, horse please take me home… Across the fields, and o'er the plains, the rivers doth thou flow? Come home sad soldier, home sad soldier, to a place you know…"

I hummed it through a few times as I curled up and closed my eyes. This was a good lullaby… Even if I couldn't remember the rest…

_Come home sad soldier, home sad soldier, to a place you know…_

And with those words ringing in my head I fell asleep to a horse's whinny.


	7. The Horse Tamers

**Reminder:: **Tolkien is awesome and owns every Lord of the Rings reference. Period. n_n

Thanks for reading everyone! I was really nervous about writing on here at first, but you guys were so nice, I just had to continue. Now I'm much more comfortable with my writing. And sorry it seems rushed and dry, but I tend to write like that when I'm eager to get to the parts I want to write about. Sorry! Here's the next chapter (probably a long one because I like these guys =3). And hopefully Sarah isn't too Mary-Sueish… I tried to give her as many faults as I could while keeping a positive attitude about her like her being naïve, too trusting, a little superficial, irritable, et cetera, et cetera. I'm just so terrified of having a Mary-Sue! I already have a 'girl falls into world' story, so I don't want to push it. xD

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**Chapter Seven :: The Horse Tamers**

* * *

"—Yes, I found her just across the Anduin."

"I still don't see what you were doing over there…"

"Father, the horses were with me, that isn't the issue."

"Of course not! I'm wondering what you were doing over the river."

"Does it really matter? It's lucky I was or she could be dead."

"Yes, it matters. You deliberately disobeyed me! The other side of the river is not safe these days, Linius, you know that quite well."

"This again, Father?"

"Yes, this again! Goldorin has told me much about what has been going on in the world and I am fit to—"

"Always with the conspiracy theories…"

"They are not theories! It's true! Orcs are on the move again, hear me! They're springing out of the mountains to meet their master, yes they are. Right fit to be worried about you crossing over onto their lands!"

"Then what's a girl doing over there by herself?"

The conversation going on was loud enough to wake me up. My legs were sore and throbbing from all the walking and running I had done. My mouth felt parched and my stomach growled.

"Linius, hush, she's waking! Go get the soup-no! Not there, it's on the table. In the kitchen, where else? Quick, quick now boy!" The older man hissed orders to the boy who was clanging about the room. His returning footsteps told me he had arrived with the soup and there was a creaking sound as from a chair.

"Yes, just set it there."

"Do you think she can hear us?"

"Most likely. Lady?"

Someone touched my arm and I stirred so they knew I was conscious enough to understand. The hand moved to my forehead and a wet cloth was laid there, soothing and cold.

"She's running high with fever. Probably hasn't eaten in days, poor lass. The second she opens her eyes, I want that soup in her, you hear, Linius?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now you watch her while I bring in the stock."

"Couldn't I do that, Father?"

"No more arguments! I'll only be a few moments—"

"Father, her eyes are opening!"

Peering through the weary slits, I saw two figures in a warmly lit room. It felt crowded, but I could tell I was on a cot of some sort. The blankets were soft and the room smelt like a hot candle and some sort of musty smell like dust.

As I opened my eyes wider, I brought my hands up to my face to rub them. The person closest to me struggled for a moment with the pillow I was leaning on and lifted me gently from it so I would be propped up into a sitting position.

"Here, take this."

A bowl was placed in my hands and it was hot to the touch. I wasn't quite sure what to do and I was still very tired and my eyes kept drooping so I couldn't quite take in the whole room quite yet.

"Not like that! Pathetic, out of the way!" Father angrily took the bowl from me and gave the younger man a smart wallop.

"You said 'right when she opened her eyes'!" The boy complained.

"You laggard… You take my orders too lit'rally, boy. I meant: 'when she's awake enough to eat, give her the soup'. For goodness' sake…"

"All right, all right! My own fault." The boy huffed.

I couldn't help but smile. I gave a stronger effort to open my eyes and saw the ones called Linius and Father both with blonde hair. The older man's hair was a few inches past his shoulders and tied in a low ponytail at the base of his neck. His face was clean shaven and although he was the older of the two, he looked quite young. The younger looked very… boyish. His hair was much shorter than the other's. It was messy and clipped into a shaggy mess above his ears. I wonder why he cut it like that… Both had dark brown eyes, the same small straight nose, and chiseled chins.

Warily, the youngest lifted the soup bowl, glancing at the other man, and asking: "Would you like this now?"

I nodded and took it from him. I drank the hot soup quickly, feeling very self-conscious because they were watching me. It drove me crazy when people watched me eat…

When I was finished, the boy quickly took the bowl and set it on a table. The older man pulled up a chair next to my bed, ready to ask questions. After such hospitality, I was willing enough to answer.

"What is your name, young lady?"

"Lady."

They both looked at each other. Father looked confused and Linius looked mockingly amused.

"What was that, dear?"

"They call me Lady. I cannot remember my name or if I deserved one."

This sent them on another confusion trip. When they got back, Father said: "Well, Lady, it is lucky that Linius, my son, found you. What were you doing across the Anduin?"

"What's the Anduin?"

"The river." Linius stated.

I shook my head. "I don't remember a river… I came out of the East."

Looking a little nervous now, Father said: "You need your rest… Lady. Sleep and perhaps you'll remember more in the morning."

Without another word, they went about the room cleaning things up, tucking me in, and blowing out the candles. What time of day was it?

* * *

I awoke early to movement in the room. Startled, I sat up. I had another nightmare.

"Lady?"

The younger one… Linius? Yes, that's right. I nodded through the darkness.

Linius took the candle he was holding and lit another across the room. He then set the one he was holding down on the table next to the bed and sat in the chair. "Are you feeling well?"

I shrugged and laid back against the pillow, shivering a little.

"Where are you from? The East?"

"I don't know." I sighed. These questions _again_.

"How don't you know? Did you lose your memory?"

I sat up a little and nodded sadly. _Where was I supposed to be? Obviously not here… Was someone missing me? Somewhere?_

"I'm sorry."

I smiled. "What a funny thing to say… It isn't your fault. Why do you say you are sorry?"

"Hm… I don't know." He smiled, too. "Why 'Lady' though? Couldn't think of something more creative?"

"I don't know. It sort of caught on from the—" I cut myself off. Was the camp in the East a secret? These people certainly seemed kind… They couldn't be bad… right? Did I have to keep my guard up against them?

"From what?"

"The people I knew. They found me… and were kind to me."

"Where are they now?"

"I don't know." I half-lied, thinking of Alatar.

"Are you hungry?"

"Perhaps."

"Hold on, I'll bring something hot." Linius gave me a new cold cloth for my head, which felt like heaven in a fabric, and left to get something for me to eat.

After that display, how could I not trust them? They're simple, good people. Nothing to fear.

* * *

I spent three whole days in bed like that. The two continuously gave me food and comforting words.

After Linius interrogated me, Father had a go. That was a very interesting conversation…

He came into the room after I had finished eating. He picked up the bowl to take it out, but he brought up a chair instead. "May I sit here?"

"It's your chair." I pointed out.

He gave a crooked smile and settled in. For a few moments, he fiddled with the bowl in his hands, poking at the sides with the spoon. I propped myself up, ready for the questions to start.

"Lady, you seem to… Not to be rude or anything, but you look like you are from Rohan."

"Why is that?" I asked, tilting my head to the side.

"It's very stereotypical, but… you have blonde hair. Not to mention you were so near to the territory when Linius found you…"

"Oh. Is that the only reason then?" I frowned, a little disappointed. I thought that I was close to finding where I was supposed to be. Not to mention where my memory was lurking.

He seemed to be at a loss for words.

"Father, where is Rohan on the map?"

Father chuckled. "It is just west of the river Anduin and north of Gondor. My name is Beleg. You may call me that if you wish."

"Beleg? You have two names?"

"No, my name is Beleg. My son calls me 'Father' because I am his father."

I had come across that word before, but Wolfling never told me what it meant. "I don't understand."

"What is there that is confusing you, child?"

"All the names!" I held my head in frustration. "You are expecting me to believe that your name is Beleg but only certain people call you Father. And that certain person's name is Linius but you can also call him Son? And when people meet me, they call me lady, maiden, girl, and now child? How many names can one possibly have?"

Beleg/Father laughed but sobered up quickly. "You mean to tell me you do not remember what father or son means? What about mother? Daughter? Sister? Brother?"

At each new word I shook my head. Beleg-Father looked disturbed, but then decided to explain. "It's all in relation to family."

"Family?"

"Oh, dear…"

And then Beleg went on for a long time explaining to me what family meant. Family meant that someone and someone else have a child and then they can all call each other intimate names like Father, Mother, Son, Daughter, Husband, Wife and so on. When those children have children then there can be things like Cousins, Uncles, Aunts, and Grandparents. I had to ask again what Parents meant, but I learned it was another word for Father and Mother. Like a grouping term. It was all very, very confusing and Beleg only made it worse when he told me that people outside of the Family called them by their given names.

"But then why not name a child Son? Or Daughter?"

"I… don't know." Beleg finally gave up. At least he did after he went on about something called 'home' and I was all the more confused because I thought they were all houses, tents, or buildings. Was home a singular way of saying houses? No, that was house. Home is where your Family lives. Okay, so then where's this? Where's what? This building. There is only you and Linius, correct? What is the building called when all the Family is not living in the one house?

And finally he said goodnight.

* * *

By the fourth day, I was feeling very active. I was restless and sitting in bed all day which was out of the question to me. I was healthy enough to wake up very early in the morning on that day, so I straightened up the bed as best as I could, fluffed up the pillow, and left the door open. When I went into the hall, I saw that someone must have beaten me to getting up. There were candles already lit, and even a few torches to light the way. It was kind of cramped, but there was a door right in front of me, nothing to the right, and to the left there were two openings where doors could be on either side. I went left and peeked in on both rooms. One was a complete kitchen with small table and a few chairs, and the other room was a sitting room of sorts with a small fireplace, bookshelf, and fluffy chairs. I was surprised to see a blanket tossed across the largest chair like it had been slept in. Did I take someone's room?

Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could I not have taken someone's room? There were probably only two bedrooms and I had hogged the one. How could I ever repay these people? It seemed so impossible unless they were both to get sick and I nursed them both back to health for three days…

I opened the largest door at the end of the hall and saw that it led outside. The sun was bright and rather warm. Fences zigzagged around the small cottage I was in and horses of all colors, breeds, and temperaments were cavorting about freely within their pastures. The grass was green and fresh, but there were patches of grass that looked dry and wiry like the grass I had seen in the Brown Lands. I recognized my boots by the door and laced them up, carefully following Alatar's instructions mentally.

Walking down the hill and sliding a bit in the wintery mud and slush, I stopped at the nearest fence post and held onto it for support. I leaned against the fence and watched the horses graze. I felt sad that Alatar's horse had died, but I had seen faces of men without feeling as sad… Why is that? The horse looks more helpless? More trapped? Oblivious? Eh, who knows? I don't think I'll ever know…

I'm sick of not knowing anything. Can't my memory come back? It'll probably come back when I'm not thinking about it. Psh. Like that'll happen… Crap, is that why it's still not there?

"Like the horses?"

I jumped at the suddenness of the new arrival, but nodded and smiled anyway. It was Linius. "You're up early."

"I could say the same for you. What are you doing out of bed?"

"Restless." I explained shortly.

"I would be, too."

It was quiet for awhile as we stared out at all the horses.

"Which one's your favorite?" Linius asked.

"The black one there. Definitely." I waved my hand in the direction of a completely black horse. Nothing on it was any other color. It was sleek and shiny and beautiful.

"Really? I thought you'd like the white one over there, or the palomino."

"White's not bad, but it's not my favorite. Black seems classier in a strange way… And I have no idea what palomino is."

Linius smiled.

"How many do you have?"

"Somewhere over a hundred."

"Wow."

"Yeah…"

I looked at Linius and remembered an earlier question I had. "Why is your hair so short?"

"Huh? What?"

"Your hair." I sighed and pointed. I hated repeating things. Just a pet-peeve I suppose. "How come every other man I've seen has long hair?"

"I am not yet old enough to grow my hair out."

"There are rules?"

"Traditions. In our family anyway."

Oh, great, it's a family thing.

"Our family allows their men to grow their hair out when they are twenty years. To show they are men of age."

"Twenty? Is that a lot?"

Linius shrugged. "Not really… How old are you?"

"I don't know."

"You can't even remember your age?"

"No."

"That's horrible… I'm ten and nine. I would say you are…" He looked me over, top to bottom. "Ten and six? Ring a bell?"

"No… I didn't hear anything."

Linius laughed and clapped me on the back. Not understanding his joke, I just stared at him.

After he finished laughing at me or with me, I couldn't tell, he asked: "Who did you live with before you came to Rohan?"

"Men… They found me—err—" I abruptly stopped. I couldn't tell him how Alatar found me; that was humiliating! "—in a field. I think I lost my memory there."

"What were men doing out in a field?"

"I never really found out." I explained. I figured Linius of all people I had met so far, I could trust whole-heartedly. "They were resisting something or someone."

"Who?"

"Sauron, I think his name was. I only heard snidbits and those bits were in a different language." I then proceeded to tell him about my stay at the camp. I told him about Wolfling and asked him about name deserving. Linius said he had never heard of it, but he assumed that it was a coming of age thing, like his hair. I nodded and continued to tell him about the nights I spent at the fireside watching them and wanting to join in. He was a very good listener and I got carried away at some points, but I was having fun telling him about it all… It seemed so much more exciting when I retold it than it really was. To my surprise though, Linius was most interested in the part about the swords.

"You are interested in sword fighting?"

"Perhaps…" I agreed. "They're very heavy though and hard to handle… If only they made a lighter one, I would try again."

"Well, I do not own a sword, Lady, but you may use my bow."

"Bow? What's a bow?"

"Come, I'll show you!"

Linius started to run back up to the house at an alarming rate. I struggled to keep up, laughing along the way and stumbling in the wet earth. When I finally caught up to him, I had followed him around the side of the house and to a stretch of yard that was not fenced in. The fences started a few hundred yards out from the house on this side, giving the landowners plenty of extra room. A few chickens roamed about and an old spotted dog lazily looked up at me from a mat leaning against the wall. Linius was fiddling with some curved object, stringing it it seemed, so I went to say hello to the dog. His ears were black and masked his bright blue eyes. The rest of his body was grey with black spots here and there speckled about like dust.

"Hello, Dog." I smiled and gave him a pat. His ears were soft and he enjoyed the attention he was getting. He seemed to smile up at me and leaned into my palm for more.

"Oh, that's Huan. Come 'ere, Huan!" Linius snapped his fingers. Huan obediently stood and slinked over to his master, wagging his tired tail. "He's old in years, but he used to love chasing the chickens. He might try it once in awhile, but he's much too lazy to do much of anything anymore. He still loves to watch me shoot."

"What does his name mean?" I asked, thinking it sounded odd.

"Oh, my father is a history fanatic, if you could not already see by the manuscripts in the sitting room." I nodded and Linius continued. "Huan was named after the faithful hound of Beren who wed elf maiden Luthien. Huan gave his life defending his master, so he thought it was a befitting name for our dog."

"Is there a reason your father likes history so much?" I asked, watching him struggle with the string.

"Yes. His father named him Beleg after Beleg Cuthalion, or Beleg Strongbow, the faithful elf friend of Turin Turambar. Turin accidentally killed his best friend Beleg who was trying to free him from the Orcs."

"How can you accidentally kill someone?"

"You'd be surprised. It's not that difficult really, accidents happen, right? Anyway… Beleg was always one of my Grandfather's favorites. I'm not sure why…"

Although I wasn't sure why someone would name their child after such a tragedy, I thought it was better not to ask. "Does your name have any historical meaning?"

"No."

"Oh…"

"It was just my mother's favorite."

"Where is—"

"Linius? Where are you?" Beleg's strong voice came from the front of the house.

"Out here, Father!" Linius called back. A few moments later, Beleg came walking around the side of the house. Huan was eager to see him and readily licked his hand as he approached.

Beleg pat the dog and looked at us both: "What are you two doing?"

"I was showing Lady my bow." Linius explained, finally catching the string.

"Be careful—"

"Yes, yes, we know. I'm not going to shoot her."

Beleg smiled and ruffled his son's hair. "It's good to see you up, Lady. Are you feeling well?"

"Yes, thank you. You two have done so much for me. I can't dream of a way to repay you."

"No need. Stay with us as long as you like." Beleg offered. He walked back around the house, but peered out again as if to check that Linius indeed had not shot me since the time he turned his back.

"Finally ready!" Linius announced. "This is a quiver." He explained, holding up a cylinder with sticks. "These are arrows." He pulled out a stick from the quiver. There was a tuff on the end and a sharp point on the other. "This is the nok point." He pointed to the center somewhere on the string of the bow, probably the little kinky thing. "And this is the upper and lower limb, see? This is the grip, or what you hold on to. Are you right or left-handed? Sorry, I should have known you wouldn't know. We'll figure that out in a moment. Anyway, this is the proper way to hold it, see? You put in the arrow like this, see, so that the shaft won't hit the grip or your hand when you let go. You set it up so your elbow is drawn back, wait, I have a better idea. Why don't you hold it? There… Yes, like that. Alright, so give me your stance… Okay, hold up with your right arm, straighter, yes, that's it… Yes, you're definitely right-handed. That's good, because I am too and this bow is made for the right handed… Well, I don't agree that it's bad to be left-handed, but many adults think so… Yes, so pull back with your elbow like this, see-whoa! Careful! Almost took out my eye! No, no, it's all right you're learning. Now don't let go of the arrow this time. We have to get you set up proper first… Get back in your stance, yes, good. Very good. You'll take aim just over the tip of your… Yes… Okay, why don't you aim for… Oh, hold on a moment… I'll go get the sand bag…"

Linius left for a moment, freeing me from his lesson. I admit, he sure knew what he was talking about, but I had forgotten what he had said the minute he stopped saying it! I examined the bow I was holding and started pressing the bottom pointy end into the dirt. I drew a few patterns with it before Linius came hobbling back with a heavy bag. Clutching it tightly, he made a run for it and let it drop a couple yards in front of me.

"That's a good place to start." Linius breathed and walked back up to me. "Show me your stance again."

"Yes, sir!" I saluted like I had seen the men do to Wolfling when they were following his orders. I thought it was a sign of respect, but Linius started laughing at me again.

Angered by my stupidity, I quickly took up an arrow, placed it, aimed and let go in a flash. The arrow missed by a long shot, but the power behind it I thought was impressive. It was lost in the grassy fields hundreds of yards away. "So there…" I mumbled.

"Impressive, Lady, but next time, I recommend you aim." Linius teased. Huan was already running down the yard in pursuit of the fly away arrow. I set the bow down in the grass and ran after the two to help search for it. Huan sniffed around with determination in places he thought best to look, but was temporarily distracted by a funny smelling rabbit hole.

After a few minutes of searching, Linius was the one to find it. "Ah-ha!" He proclaimed and tore the arrow from the ground.

"I'm sorry I lost it in the first place." I apologized. "I'm not the most… patient person."

"Don't worry about it, Lady. I have plenty more. Now let's go back and do it again!"

I nodded, smiling, and Linius and I raced back to the bow to see who was to use it next. Huan trailed after us, in the way old dogs do, with a slight limp, a walk, and then another attempt at running. Linius beat me to the bow, so he got the next shot. He took aim and fired his arrow. It went into the center of the sand bag.

"Wow! You're very good!" I complimented as he handed me the bow for my turn.

"Oh, that was nothing. It's because it's so close. Now you try; I'm sure we'll be able to move it back soon."

True to his word, I was able to get the 'bull's eye' after about a dozen arrows and then kept getting it. We moved the sand bag back a couple more yards and repeated the process over and over until it was midday.

"Lady, are you hungry?"

"Starved." I exaggerated.

"We'll stop in for dinner and then come back out if you want to. Unless of course, you want to stop for today."

It was very fun, so I didn't want to stop. Linius and I agreed to eat and then help out around the house first before we went back to our practice.

"You have potential, Lady." Linius said as we rounded the corner of the house, carrying the bow and arrows. Huan trailed us from behind for a few moments before he thought it was his job to lead the way and passed ahead of us.

"Thank you. It's because I have a good teacher, I suppose."

Linius gave me a shove, so I shoved him right back. This resulted in the two of us racing to the front door. Huan played as an interference to Linius and tripped him up on accident, of course. I won this time around, but nearly ran into Beleg.

"Sorry!" I stopped short, apologizing.

"Seems you two are getting along quite nicely." Beleg smiled as Linius rounded the corner and nearly ran into me. "Come inside, dinner is ready."

"Thank you, Father. I'm sorry, I haven't done anything today."

"It is forgiven, Linius. It is good to know that Lady has a friend." Beleg ruffled my hair this time. "But I shall not be so easy tomorrow. Tonight you will round up the stock. I'll take care of the horses."

Linius nodded. Feeling left out I offered: "Please let me help, too. I've been useless and time consuming enough for two children."

Beleg grinned at my offer, but he took it lightly. The two then led me into the kitchen where I could wash my hands and face. It felt nice, but I longed to take a real bath. We sat down at the little table, passed out the food, and ate. The spread was lovely with apples, pancake bread of some sorts, and freshly roasted chicken. Everything was delicious.

After we ate, I volunteered to clean up. With a few pointers on where to put things and how to clean up, I put everything in its place and tidied up the kitchen as best as I could. I must've done well because they were very pleased with the results. They said it must be the girl in me shining through. Whatever that was supposed to mean, I had no idea.

I shyly asked Beleg where I could get a bath and he apologized a little excessively. Apparently, since they were both 'men', they did not bathe as often as a 'woman' would. Beleg led me to the bedroom I was in to start out with and he soon brought me a wooden basket like tub full of cold water. He handed me a glob of soapy substance, a brush of some sorts, a rag, and a towel to dry up with. Since I was already wearing boy clothes (fine ones according to him) he wasn't too hesitant about giving me some of Linius' clothes to wear. After I had bathed in the freezing water, I felt much better no matter how much my teeth chattered. The clothes were too big for me, but I didn't complain. They were fresh and clean like I was.

After I was done with my bath, I took the water out and threw it out into the yard as directed. I then went around the house to see what Linius was up to.

Much to my delight, Linius was chasing chickens around. He was bent over and he kept 'whooping' at them to get them into the little hen house. They screamed and squawked in protest and refused to do as he said. Seeing that he was having trouble and Huan wasn't being very useful on his bed, I bent over and got into the action. Linius was surprised I was there at first, but he was grateful for the help. Instead of yelling at them, I gently whispered to them, getting much teasing from Linius. Apparently I was being a 'chicken whisperer'. Ha ha.

My chicken whispering was getting much better results though and I soon had shooed away more chickens than Linius in less time. When we were done, he asked: "How'd you know to do that?"

"Must be that 'woman' instinct." I teased.

"Women know how to talk to chickens?" Linius countered.

"No, we just know how to not scream bloody murder at them!" I laughed and ran to the house. Linius beat me there anyway and we pushed inside. The house was darker now and it was time for supper. This time, I watched Beleg and Linius cook and took mental notes. One of my ideas on ways of repaying them was to cook their meals, so I wanted to be able to do it right. Not to mention, do it safely. If I burnt their house down, I just might kill myself.

Being nice gentlemen, they let me keep the room I had been staying in for the night. Although I protested to Linius sleeping on the couch, both insisted that Linius was going to be fine and that I should have the bedroom. With a good night to them both, I left them by the lit fireplace and closed the door to my room. My boots were already off, and soon I had my entrapments like belt, gloves, and jerkin laid aside. I snuggled in under the covers and thought about my wonderful day.


	8. Coniceth

**Reminder:: **Tolkien is the sole creator of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy and surrounding works. I have ownership? I refute to that!

Hey, everyone, here's another chapter! I made the little poem thing. Obviously 'cuz it's amateur. x3 This is my Christmas special chapter, but maybe I'll fit another in before Yuletide. n_n Please remember though, reviews are better than Christmas presents! 8D

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**Chapter Eight :: Coniceth**

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It had been two weeks since I arrived at Beleg's home. I was getting better at cooking, but Beleg always cooked with me. Soon though, I was ready to cook on my own. I wanted to surprise them…

Everyday Linius and I would do something new. I learned more about the bow, gave Huan a bath, brushed the horses, fed the horses, and even learned how to properly kill and dress a chicken. The last part wasn't my favorite because I had a soft heart for animals, but it was necessary and I loved the taste. From what I knew about families, Linius was like the brother I never had or could not remember. And Beleg was just as good as any father. I liked living here, but how long could I stay?

Today Linius promised me that he would show me a surprise. After my previous experiences with surprises; waking up naked, having nightmares, seeing all your friends and acquaintances slaughtered; surprises didn't seem to be very fun. So I was very nervous and was jumping at everything everyone said.

"Linius tells me he has a surprise for you today. Is that right?"

I gulped and nodded, barely poking at my food. Linius was off somewhere, probably preparing my doom.

"Why do you look afraid?" Beleg asked, looking concerned.

I shrugged. He wouldn't settle for that though. "You do not like surprises?"

"No." I shook my head.

"Any particular reason?"

I then sighed and told him about my nightmares and waking up with amnesia (not the indecent part though), and finally spilled about the camp. It all came out in one flow of gulps and tears. "I… I barely knew them… So many questions I had and they probably had families and friends of their own! Why is it that I survived…? The only one who didn't have any connections… Any use! It's not fair! And their faces have haunted my dreams ever since… Bloody, distorted, frightened, surprised… I don't like surprises…"

I didn't even realize that Beleg had rose from his chair and was patting my back as I cried. "That is not what surprises are, Lady. There is no need to be afraid of us; nothing is going to happen. There are good surprises, too." Then kneeling down to my sitting height, he held my shoulders as I sniffled. "Do not be afraid, Lady. We will protect you."

I hugged him for awhile. Even though it was not my safety that I was worried about, it was nice to let it all out and show some affection. It was like an open puzzle board. All the pieces were missing, but they were slowly filling in with every day. Another piece seemed to click in here and I felt warm and happy.

"What's happened?" Linius peered into the kitchen.

Beleg smiled and answered for me. "All is well. Why don't you take Lady now? She could something brighter to think about."

Linius, still confused and looking concerned like an older brother, helped clean up the kitchen with the two of us. Afterwards, Linius took me by the hand and ran all the way to the stables. I had learned that the stable was the house for the horses. I had already been inside to help brush them and feed them. Wondering what the surprise was going to be, I continued to run and finally stopped outside the door.

"Ready for some fun? I have everything set up; all we have to do is walk in." Linius smiled.

I nodded, still feeling a little hiccup every now and again from my blubbering.

"Here it is!"

I peered into the stables and didn't see anything unusual. There were horses in their stables, but the rest were outside still. Some horses were eating, the floor was clean, the ceiling was low, and the torches flickered. I didn't get it.

"This way." Linius pulled me through the halls. We stopped at two stalls side by side. The horses inside were calm but they had saddles on their backs. These saddles weren't as fancy as the one Alatar had, but I recognized them for what they were worth. The horse on the left was a dark grey horse with a blackened mane. It was very pretty, but the one on the right was the shiny black one I had seen on my first trip outside.

"He's all yours to ride!" Linius announced enthusiastically.

"What? We're going to go riding?" I felt my face lift with excitement.

"Yes! I'm going to teach you how to ride and then we'll be able to explore and get around faster."

Feeling so much happier, I gave Linius and hug and told him. "You're like the brother I never had!"

"Well, you're like the little sister I never had." Linius agreed and ruffled my hair. Putting back in place with a little huff, I entered the black horse's stall.

"What's his name?" I asked as I patted his warm, soft nose.

"Well, we don't normally name the horses since we trade them to Edoras, but you may name him whatever you like."

I thought about names and couldn't come up with anything that I had never heard before. Nothing too unique, if that makes sense. "Alatar."

"Alatar?"

"Mm-hm." I nodded, finalizing my decision. I pulled up my sleeve and looked at my wrist as discreetly as possible. The blue fabric I had found near Alatar's dead horse I had kept and tied around my wrist. I hadn't removed it since. Untying it carefully from my wrist now, I walked around to Alatar's side and tied the fabric around a lock of his mane. I admit, it looked rather girly, but I knew what it meant. That's what mattered.

"Ready to ride him?"

I said 'yes' and Linius helped me climb up onto the saddle. I felt much taller when I was finally balanced, but I felt like I needed a seat belt. Linius had to promise me I wouldn't fall off if I obeyed him before I let him leave the stall and get onto his horse. He hopped effortlessly onto the grey one, showing years of practice. With a click of his tongue he had his horse trotted out of the stall with him.

If I lifted my arms up, I could touch the ceiling it was so low and I was so tall. The horse I was on was massive and my legs felt funny straddled across its back. Linius tugged on a rope that was tied to the reins of my horse and Alatar obediently followed the grey horse out the large open door at the end of the hall.

"Alright, hold on, Lady! It hurts when you fall."

"You tell me this now?" I asked, shocked and annoyed.

"Hurry up!"

Linius' horse picked up his pace to a steady jog that my horse was forced to match. I clutched to the saddle, scared I would fall, but after awhile of just riding along and going up and down in a steady motion, I felt calmer. We jogged around the pasture for awhile. It was fun and I was getting used to riding Alatar.

"Ready to go on your own?" Linius called back.

"No!" I shook my head immediately.

Linius laughed and hopped off his horse. He hurried over, untied the rope from Alatar, and hopped back onto his horse. "Keep up!"

"What? No! Come back!" I hollered.

Linius ignored me and his horse was flying away across the brown grass. We weren't in sight of the house, so I had no choice but to follow him.

"Um…" I tried making the clicking sound, but Alatar didn't budge.

"Follow him!" I ordered. Nothing.

Irritated and alone, I fidgeted and bumped him in the sides with the stirrups on accident. Not knowing that was the signal to move, I was scared out of my wits when Alatar let out a whinny and took off after Linius.

I bounced up and down and up and down and up and _ow_. It was sore work and it was terrifying, but I couldn't let go of the adrenaline that was pumping through my veins or the light feeling in my stomach. I felt like I was flying. I couldn't help but smile and even laugh as I had Alatar racing at top speed, me clutching his reins. Linius was soon in view. He had stopped to make sure I had figured out how to catch up. What he didn't expect was for me to go zooming past him. Hm… How do I stop? Uh-oh. Light hearted feeling over.

Alatar seemed to know what he was doing as he wound his way through the grass, but I wasn't sure he knew I wanted him to stop. How could I tell him anyway? Maybe kicking him again?

I nudged his sides, but that only made him work harder to go faster. Feeling bad, I leaned forward and stroked his face. It made him slow down, so I shushed him like I did to coax the chickens into their coop. Alatar slowed and I could see the house now. He finally stopped and I took a deep breath.

"Lady!"

I turned and saw Linius racing up to me. He immediately started apologizing between laughs. "It is good to see that you found out how to stop and that you are uninjured."

"Uninjured? I will not sit down for a week!" I complained although I was smiling.

"How did you stop?"

"I had to coax him into it." I explained.

"Oh. Good thinking. Next time though, you might want to pull on the reins."

I looked down at my hands and felt stupid. "Well, you should have told me that earlier!" I snapped playfully holding a grudge.

"Oops?"

I glared at his mischievous smile and innocent shrug. I was close enough, so I gave him a hard push. He nearly fell of his horse, but he caught on in time to pull himself back up. By that time though, I was racing back to the stables.

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Back in the stables, Linius decided to ask me what I was crying about in the kitchen. He probably thought it was safe since I was so happy at the moment, but it only made me downcast as I flew back into reality.

Realizing his mistake he quickly apologized. "I'm sorry. If it was making you so upset, I should not have asked. I was just curious. I'm sorry."

"No, no. It's fine." I answered shortly and started to brush all the dust off of Alatar. I then quickly explained to him, using as few details about the gore as possible.

When I had finished Linius was quiet. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

I didn't answer.

"But… We've all lost someone. You're probably wondering why my mother doesn't live here with us."

This sparked my curiosity, but I didn't want to show it. He continued anyway.

"Well, she died when I was a baby. She died when I was born, actually."

"I'm sorry."

"Linius was her favorite name… It used to be her horse's name, too. I don't know why. I don't know where it comes from; from the depths of ancient tales or the depths of her mind, I'll never know. Her name was Coniceth. Pretty strange, right? Father thinks it could have been Elvish, but again we'll never really know. He wanted to name me Turin. When my mother died though, he decided her name choice was best."

I thought about this for a moment and repeated, more earnestly: "I'm sorry. Really I am. Do you… blame yourself?"

He nodded quickly, but didn't look at me while he brushed his horse.

"I blame myself, too. Alatar was too worried about protecting me, that he probably died. I'll never really know, I don't think. I have a feeling our paths will not cross again…"

"Never knowing… that sounds worse." Linius mumbled.

"Perhaps. But there's still a chance I might. You know what happened to your mother. And Linius?" I peeked over from the top of the stable wall. He looked up. "I'm sure she's happy for you."

Linius gave a half smile and nodded.

After we put the supplies away and said good night to the horses, we threw out the feed for the chickens in their coop for the night. They hadn't been out that day because it was too chilly for them. Light specks of snow started to flutter down from the sky when Linius and I finally returned for supper and bed.

Beleg served us warm chicken broth for supper and I helped make the bread. It was a good meal for a cold night and Huan slept inside. I was very tired, but I didn't want to go to bed quite yet. Beleg had mercifully made a cot for his son, so Beleg and Linius slept in the room across from me. It took the tension off of my guilt to know that even though I stole his room, at least he had a bed now.

Anyway, I followed the boys into the sitting room after I had cleaned up after supper. Beleg immediately sat down in front of the lit fire with a few scrolls and decided to read through them. Linius and I played some indoor games like thumb war and he taught me how to properly shake hands even though I was a woman and wouldn't need to. It was very… Neanderthal-ish, but it was a tradition of their country that I was willing to accept.

After awhile of doing nearly nothing, I peeked over at Beleg. "What are you reading, Beleg?"

He looked up, startled to hear his name. "Hm? Oh, some old history."

"What kind of story?"

Linius sat up from all the blankets we had piled on the floor and snuggled into so we wouldn't freeze. He leaned over and peered over his father's shoulder at the writing. "He's reading about the Elder Days."

"What are those?"

"The beginnings of our world." Beleg smiled enthusiastically. Linius sighed, probably not too impressed.

"Could you read it aloud a bit? I would like to hear." I smiled.

"Here, why don't you see?" Linius handed me a scroll. I opened it and stared at all the symbols.

"I don't know how to read." I stated, staring at it from all angles.

"Something else we have to teach you?" Linius teased.

"Hey, you didn't wake up in the middle of nowhere with amnesia." I countered jokingly.

"Oh, we've all heard that one. You'll have to be more creative than that, Lady." Linius grinned.

I gave him a smack with the rolled up scroll before handing it back to Beleg to read. He read it aloud for awhile for me and it was very interesting. Although… a bit hard to comprehend. I mean… a giant, ancient choir whose music created the world? Eh… Whatever. It was still a good tale none the less.

"Do you know any songs?" I asked in the following silence.

"Some." Linius nodded.

"Could you teach me one?" I begged. "Please?"

"Why?"

"They're fun."

"Here," Linius stood, shedding a few blankets and glanced through all the scrolls and manuscripts on the shelf before taking one. "Haven't seen this in years…"

"What is it?" Beleg asked, his curiosity piqued.

"It's how you taught me to read."

"Ooo, let me look! Please?" I held my hands out like an eager child wanting a cookie.

Beleg smiled and Linius sat down next to me with it.

"What is it?"

"It's a song! Sort of. More like a poem that you can hum to. It's how I learned to read. See—"

Linius rolled it out and I poured over the markings. According to him, the alphabet was on top. He told me how to say each letter based on the symbol. It was Westron.

"So this is what Westron looks like on paper?" I asked.

Linius nodded. "This is a poem about a soldier. As I say each word, I'll point to it. When we're done, I'll name each letter and I'll let you sound it out. Ready?"

I nodded and followed his finger as he began.

"You fly like wind through the pasture

Through rivers and singing trees

The horse's hooves beat nearer and nearer

As they bring you closer here to me.

The wind flies over the pasture

I call to you o'er the thrum

Somehow I know I'll see you 'fore the daybreak

For with you, I know I'm coming home."

When he finished he explained all the letters and we went through it a few times.

"See, the first part, here, is the woman at home waiting for the return of the soldier. The second part is the soldier's part. Understand?"

"I see." I nodded and let out a yawn.

"Time for bed." Beleg announced, standing before us and rolling up the scroll.

Linius and I obeyed and went to our separate rooms after I got a hug out of everyone. Today I learned how to ride a horse, the story of Coniceth, and I even learned how to read some. I had accomplished so much today!


	9. The Raid

**Reminder:: **Tolkien created the Lord of the Rings Trilogy and surrounding works and such pieces are only associated with his family and affiliates. 'May It Be' is an original song by Enya and her affiliates. Also re-sung by Celtic Woman. I do not claim ownership.

One more chapter before Christmas! Happy Hobidays everyone. =3 I couldn't help but use one of my favorite songs yet again in here. Let the music ring! And don't the Gaelic parts remind you of Elvish? 8D There's some long awaited action in this chapter and I hope that I get some reviews for Christmas. All I want for Christmas… is your reviews~! If you knew that I was singing that last part like Mariah Carey, you rock. xD

Thank you so much to all the people who 'alerted', or 'favorited' me or my story, or reviewed… or all four! It means a ton and it makes me feel very loved. =3 Thanks again and enjoy!

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**Chapter Nine :: The Raid**

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Life was slow, but never monotonous at the house in Rohan. I enjoyed living peacefully there, and I had stayed all throughout the winter and spring. It was now early summer and the flowers were in full blossom, the fields were fresh with tall grasses, and the air reeked of earthly fragrance. It was truly paradise.

I was surprised that I had stayed so long, but deep inside I couldn't imagine leaving… They felt like family. Real family. I knew what that meant now and I did not want to give it up. I… I loved them.

It was early morning when I was shaken awake. Linius was standing over me with an excited look on his face. "Lady! Come quick!"

"What? What? Is something wrong?" I rubbed my eyes and hurried as I stumbled out of bed. Linius did not answer me but ran out into the hall. I dressed myself quickly and ran out after him.

I saw his silhouette in the front door by the light of a torch. He beckoned me to follow him, so I sprinted down the hall and after him down the lawn. There was a light in the stable.

When we entered, I was about to ask a question when Beleg appeared from the top of one of the stalls. "Did you fetch the blankets, son?"

"Yes, Father, they're right here. I went and got Lady."

"Hello." Beleg smiled at me.

"What is going on?" I asked sleepily.

"You'll see! You'll see!" Linius smiled reassuringly. "I know you'll want to see this. This happens quite a bit around here, but you probably haven't seen anything like—"

"Hurry, Linius!" Beleg pressured. He had disappeared again.

"Oh, sorry! Come, Lady."

I followed Linius down the aisle, giving a small wave to the drowsy Alatar. He looked very irritated that there was so much commotion. His expression seemed to say: 'Do you know the hour?'. I smiled, thinking the same thing.

When I made a left into a large stall after Linius, I gasped. A horse was still panting hard, but she had recently given birth. A shaky, slimy looking mass quaked near her feet. Beleg was strategically placing blankets and making the mother comfortable.

"See?" Linius prompted. How could I not?

"Wow…" I whispered. "What is it?"

"A foal!"

"Gender, silly!" I rolled my eyes.

"A girl." Beleg answered.

"She's beautiful…" I smiled. The mother was a rich chestnut color, but her baby was bright and cream. Linius said his color would change when he was older. It was hard to listen to all the technical talk. The little foal's eyes were pinching themselves open and shut like the light was bothering her. She smacked her lips and tossed her head about and rocked back and forth with a spirited air. One thing he was right about, yes, I wanted to see this… It gave a whole new meaning to life itself… How could I complain that I didn't have memories? Seeing the birth of a new life was enough for me. It should be enough for anyone! Strangely, I felt changed.

That night after supper and a day of taking care of the little newcomer, our broken little family was sitting once more around the family fireplace in the living room. I loved nights like these. The fire was low because it was warm outside and we were scattered about the floor and furniture trying not to overheat. On nights like these, Linius taught me how to read and Beleg taught me about the history of the world. I learned so much and the entire time I was happy…

"So read this line, Lady." Linius scrawled something down and held it up to me.

"'The chickens flock together outside the house.'"

"Good. This one?"

"'It is time to say goodnight.'" I read.

"Very good. Hm… This one?"

"'Beleg has a—' Linius, I'm not saying that!" I scolded.

"What was that, Linius?" Beleg peered over his papers.

"Just read it." Linius pressured.

I let out a huff. "Well, it's not my fault… 'Beleg has a large, obnoxious head.'"

There was a loud crack and Beleg withdrew the scroll. Linius was rubbing his head but he was still wearing a smile. I started laughing at him and that sent Beleg laughing and finally Linius joined in.

"Beleg?"

"Yes, Lady?"

"When—"

"Wait a moment, I just thought of something." Linius cut in. His interruption made me forget my history question. "Lady, do you know any songs? When I found you last winter, I remember you were mumbling something that sounded like a song, but I never asked."

"Hm… Now that I come to think of it, I don't think I knew any songs before I got here."

"You cannot remember? What about the times you sat around the fireside?" Linius said.

It felt like I was physically taken back. After all, I was laying down flat on my stomach in front of the fire place like I had in the supply tent watching the men around the fire. I could see the men sparring and drinking and singing jolly songs. A smile came to my face as I reminisced in memories that were not mine and I nodded. "Actually, I can remember one…"

"Why don't you sing it, Lady? Do you know the tune?" Beleg said.

"I'll try, but nobody criticize, please?" I begged good-heartedly. I went over the words in my head a few times and finally decided to try after awhile.

"May it be an evening star  
Shines down upon you  
May it be when darkness falls  
Your heart will be true  
You walk a lonely road  
Oh how far you are from home

Mornie utúlië (darkness has come)  
Believe and you will find your way  
Mornie alantië (darkness has fallen)  
A promise lives within you now

May it be the shadows call  
Will fly away  
May it be you journey on  
To light the day  
When the night is overcome  
You may rise to find the sun

Mornie utúlië (darkness has come)  
Believe and you will find your way  
Mornie alantië (darkness has fallen)  
A promise lives within you now

A promise lives within you now."

"That's a great song, Lady!" Linius clapped.

"Not bad. Not bad at all." Beleg smiled politely. "Sounds rather Elvish."

"I know I sound dreadful, but I like the song, too." I admitted. "I only wish I could sing it better."

"You did fine." Linius shrugged. "I mean, I wouldn't go to Edoras and suggest a concert in the Golden Hall, but you were fine."

Feeling rebellious, I picked up the chair cushion and threw it across the room into his face. Thus commenced the pillow war! Beleg had to get in on it too when one of us accidentally smacked him hard in the back of the head. The three of us ran about the room, beating each other with all the soft objects we could find. I was giggling madly and was the first to go down. Father and son fought it out for awhile before Huan started barking from the noise so we had to settle down.

"I think it is time for bed." Beleg sighed and tossed a pillow back in place.

"Aw…" Linius and I whined.

"Off to bed!" Beleg shooed us.

As I went after Linius down the hall, Beleg stopped me for a moment. "Lady, would you spare me a word?"

"Of course."

He looked like he was feeling awkward. He wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure how to go about saying it. I remained patient and gave him time to make it easier for him.

"Lady… You've lived with us for quite some time now…"

I nodded. "And I've very happy here, but I do not want to wear out my welcome."

"That is what I was getting to." Beleg nodded. "I would like to thank you."

_Thank me? Me? If anything, I should be at his feet scrubbing the floors to make up for my burdens on these good people! But… thank me? _Obviously, I was taken aback.

"You have filled part of the void left by Linius' mother when she died… We have gone too long on our own. You make us feel like a family again and…" He paused. I was on the verge of tears being the crybaby I am. "I would like you to stay with us. And, not to push it, but if you wanted to call me 'Father'—"

I couldn't help it. I dived at him and clutched him tight in a hug as I bawled my eyes out. "That was the nicest thing I have ever heard…! And I would be honored to be a part of your family… Father." I let it all out in gulps and messy hiccups.

When we finally pulled away, after what felt like a warm and happy eternity, Beleg looked like he had tears in his eyes, too. "Well, you better get to bed now. It's late."

I nodded and walked down the hall feeling elated. How would I ever sleep now? I had an official father! And not to mention an official brother—

In the dark, I was tackled by invisible hands. I knew who it was eavesdropping though, so I hugged them back.

"I'm so glad you're staying with us, Lady. You're my little sister and I promise to be a good brother, I promise."

"I promise to be a good sister." I promised. Smiling, I finally said goodnight and everyone went to their rooms. I blew out the last candle and snuggled into the thin summer blanket. How would I ever get to sleep…?

* * *

I awoke to the sounds of barking. It was Huan. I sat up in bed, confused. I crept off onto the floor and quickly tied up my boots in the dark. It took me under two minutes to dress myself and open up the door. To my surprise, Linius was walking down the hall already. I stood out in the hall and watched as Beleg ran in through the front door with a torch.

The two saw me in the torchlight and I could see their faces. Something was wrong. Linius came running past me to his room.

"Don't worry, Lady, everything's under control."

"Is something wrong with the foal?"

"No. Go back to bed. All is well." Linius mumbled. I was definitely not convinced though when he emerged from his room with his bow and quiver of arrows.

"Linius, tell me what's going on!" I begged, holding his shoulder and following him.

"Thieves."

"Thieves?"

"Horse thieves out of the East."

I gulped. I had no idea that the East was so dangerous when I was living there. "Men?"

"No. Orcs. They're back again… Da and I thought they left…"

"They've been here before?"

Linius quickly nodded, obviously wanting to get back outside. "They take horses to the black land."

"You don't mean—"

"Mordor? Yes. Now get back in your room, Lady. You'll be safe if they know you are not here."

Fear in my eyes and a protest in my throat, Linius felt he had to urge me further and actually pushed me into my room. "_Please_. As your big brother, I insist you stay here."

I couldn't argue that, so I closed the door and sat on my bed. I looked around me and wished more than ever that this room had a window.

It was very quiet for a long while. Very, very quiet. I grew restless and started to pace back and forth, occasionally pressing my ear to the door to hear anything. Just as I was about to open the door, there was a loud shout from outside and a horse's desperate neigh. Immediately deciding I wasn't going to stay hidden any longer, I burst from my room and sprinted down the hall.

_I will not hide… Not this time… _

When I tore the front door open, I was shocked at what was before me. The fire coming from the stables made the yard as bright as day. Horses were scattering and the horrible, foul-smelling creatures I had seen at the camp in the East were wrangling them up and going after other runaways.

In the light of the flames and screams, Beleg was on top of a horse with a gleaming sword. He was flying along, literally cutting the throats of those who invaded his homeland. Linius was not on a horse, but he was standing resolutely with his bow and shooting arrows out with precision.

Feeling I needed to do something, I launched myself into the fray. Linius caught a glimpse of me as I dashed into the burning stables.

"Lady! Get back!"

I ignored him and dashed through the front door. The heat was intense and flames danced everywhere, blocking my vision with smoke. Coughing and feeling like turning back now instead of perish in flame, I took another step forward and strained to hear. That was it. The stables were completely empty, all the locks cut, and the door at the end wide open. But the small call I was looking for was still nestled in a bundle near the center of the stables.

Knowing where to step, I blindly ran forward down the stalls and the whinny became louder. I turned left and saw the little foal. Her mother was gone, but she was confused and tangled in the blankets, crying wildly for help.

"Sh, I'm here! I'm here!" I coaxed and dashed forward. My sudden presence startled her and she tried to scurry away. Without hesitation, I grabbed at her and heaved her up. She was very heavy, but she could have been heavier. She kicked around a bit, but I wouldn't let her fight me. I exited her stall and with a quick survey of the rest of the stables, I was sure that she was the only one left inside.

My eyes were watering like mad and my breathing was so restricted it felt like someone was sitting on my chest. Turning to the nearest door, the stable door, I ran out and into the fresh heavy air of a humid summer night.

Gasping, I set the foal down for a few seconds to regain myself. She didn't stir or protest again when I picked her up a second time. I was determined to get her to the house.

But when I went around the side of the burning building, I was crushed to see that the house was on fire now, too. I couldn't see Beleg anywhere, but it looked like the orcs were leaving with most or all of the horses. The foal was kicking again, but I carried her as fast as I could to the fence.

Linius was aiming with his bow in the light of the fire directly ahead of me. Eager to get to him, I pulled myself through the fence poles and struggled with the foal. There was a cry of an inhuman creature behind me. Dropping my concern for the foal, I whirled around. Linius was lining up another arrow towards the east, but coming directly behind him was an orc on one of our horses brandishing a sword.

"LINIUS, BEHIND YOU!" I screamed at the top of my voice. Linius heard me, but probably didn't understand my shriek. He looked at me just as the orc passed by and sliced the back of his head.

"NO!" I cried. Tears streaming down my face, I ran for Linius who was still standing. He had a shocked look on his face, and just as I reached him, he fell down over my shoulder. He was heavy and I was brought to my knees, trying to keep him up. Blood was pouring from the back of his head and I tried not to look, but understood that I would have to if I wanted to bandage him up and save him.

"Linius, stay with me, Linius!" I ordered fiercely. His hands clenched and unclenched and his arm was holding mine in an iron grip. I pushed him forward and looked at his face, getting the hair out of his eyes. "It's all right, Linius, you'll be fine. You're going to be just fine. I'm going to save you, Linius, I promise…"

Linius' eyes were hazy as he searched for something. He reached around with his other hand, groping about until he found my face. He held it for awhile.

I nodded, crying onto his hand. "I'm here, Linius, I'm here." I promised and hugged him tight. I pulled away and saw his eyes were glazed over. But… he wore a small smile.

Bawling and struggling with his body, I leaned him back and closed his eyes. I saw his bow by his side a few arrows left. Feeling a sudden rage fill my entire being, I snatched them both and left Linius behind. The orc was still riding away. It all happened in a few seconds.

Throwing an arrow into place, I took aim and fired. Missed. Screaming, I drew another and shot and another and another and another. Each arrow missed my spiteful target and he was nearly a hundred yards away now. Drawing one of the last arrows, I took my aim and shot like the day I shot my first arrow, basing it on distance and power. I released and the arrow whizzed through the air after the light twang from the bow string. The arrow soared and hit my mark directly in the back. The orc shrieked and collapsed off of the horse that continued to flee.

I fell to my knees. I stared at the grass as the tears flowed, clenching my fists and squishing the mud beneath me. Looking up, I saw what had become of the land around me. It was hauntingly similar to the campsite after it was raided. The final foundations of the house were burning down and the stables were already ash. Luckily it was wet enough that the fields didn't burn… Bodies of orcs were strewn about and even a few unfortunate horses and silence rung through the entire area. I could only hear my own heavy sobs.

"Beleg?" I called out, feeling the déjà vu.

"BELEG!" My voice echoed. _Father…?_

The silence was overbearing. I stood, forgetting everything that I was supposed to do and felt only madness. It happened again. _Again_.

Clutching my arms, I stared around feeling very cold in the summer heat. The sun was far from rising but it was easy to see on the starlit night. The moon was held high and glowed over the fields.

Thinking I couldn't leave Linius so easily, I went back to him to make sure the nightmare was simply… a nightmare. But fairy tales never last… Linius was dead. Remembering the foal and trying to forget Linius, an impossibility, I walked back over to the fence and peered over. The foal was sitting on the ground motionless. She had visible burns on her flanks and her mane was singed. Sick to my stomach, I patted her head. It was stiff and cold. She didn't survive the fire.

"Must they all die…?" I whispered sadly. My tears were spent. I felt like I would never cry again.

But Beleg. He must be around somewhere… Perhaps he's knocked out! He may need help!

I started running around wildly checking bodies. Orc, orc, orc… Another orc… Ew, really nasty orc… Beleg was nowhere to be found.

I used my time in the moonlight and my search for Beleg as an outlet for my grief and my last source of hope. The moonlight was waning and the sun was steadily rising, but nowhere could I find Beleg. In my search for him though, I found a horse that looked alarmingly like the one Beleg was riding lying across the grass dead. Fighting to find more evidence, I sadly could not. Not a hair, not a piece of cloth, not a trace. My family was gone in the dust.

Giving up all hope and seriously close to killing myself, I stumbled across a horse that was injured by still alive. I saw his panting stomach rising with panic. I ran to the horse, hoping I could do _something_ of use.

I leaned over the black animal and stroked its sweating form. "Sh…" I comforted. Placing my hand over his head, I felt a big knot in his mane. Prepared to untie it, I realized who I was leaning over.

"Alatar!" The knot was the blue cloth. I started deftly searching Alatar for his injuries. His back left flank had a pretty bad slice. Orc blade.

"Sh… Sh…" I calmed him, pushing his head down. "I'm here… I'm here…"

Looking around wildly for something to use as a tourniquet, I finally settled on the tangled mass of clothes that was a dead orc. I tore fabric from the thing's tunic and ran back to Alatar. I covered his wound tied it tight. I helped him to his feet, which he was very happy to do, and I helped him limp back to the yard. I opened the fence gate and led him through by the mane and made him stand by the well. I got some water and poured it over his cut. It wasn't too deep and soon I had him bandaged up with more fabric I had to go and find.

The sun broke over the horizon when I had finished taking care of Alatar. To my surprise and small relief, a shadow slinked over to me from around the house. It was Huan. He was in one piece, but he looked very tired. I was sure he was running around everywhere like I was looking for his masters.

He limped over to me, being the old dog he was, and wagged his tail gently at the sight of my ready hand. I pet his head and pulled him into a hug. Huan sat down next to me and I leaned against him.

I wasn't sure what to do. I felt I needed to give Linius a proper burial, but I didn't know how. I walked over to Linius' body while Alatar was taking a drink. I didn't want to look at his face. After being more than positive that he was dead, no matter how much I wanted to deny it, I did the only thing I could think of doing.

I dragged Linius to the house and then brought the dead foal that was only born a day ago. The ashes of the house were hot and I couldn't recognize anything except the general lay out. Not a thing was standing. I covered the two in hot ashes and ran away from them. I felt like I had committed a crime.

Going to the last of my friends for comfort, I heard something creak under my foot. I jumped back and saw Linius' bow. The quiver of arrows was spent, but their container was still nearby. I looked to the East and saw that this was the spot I had shot down the orc that killed—

_Never mind._ I looked at the bow and held it for awhile, watching the sun rise into the sky. I sat down next to the tired Alatar and old Huan and sighed, feeling no tears come. It was a beautiful morning…

"Starlight gleaming, downcast meanings, horse please take me home…" I hummed, feeling the sting in my nose and lump in my throat. I wished I remembered this song when Linius asked… I was actually surprised that I remembered it now.

"Come home sad soldier, home sad soldier, to a place you know…"


	10. Rangers of Ithilien

**Reminder:: **Once again, I do not own anything related to Tolkien in any way! Love that guy for creating all this stuff though.

Sorry guys for such a dismal, depressing chapter right before Christmas. Kinda slammed you with that one. xD Sorry! But don't worry, it's not that I 'like killing off' my characters or anything. There's a method to my madness. =3

Here's chapter ten and I hope everyone had an awesome Christmas Hobiday!

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Chapter Ten :: Rangers of Ithilien

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* * *

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What was I to do?

After the sun rose, I had finally made one last search for Beleg and decided that I would never find him. I doubted anyone would… All the horses were gone and as far as I could guess, Beleg had followed them where ever they went like the true horse master he was.

Not allowing myself to look at anything else gruesome, I picked my way through the burnt remains of the house for anything I could salvage. There was still the slim, very slim, chance that Beleg might return… I had to hope. What would happen to me if I didn't?

I found a few bowls that were burned badly and chipped, the remains of the stone fireplace standing like a ghostly dead tree, and parts of one of the bed frames. Everything else turned to dust the second I touched it or got too close. The smell was horribly hazy too, so I didn't spend much time in the ruins. It made me think how lucky I was to have disobeyed Linius and exited the house before it caught fire like the stables…

All I had was a horse, an old dog, and a well for water. I was lucky enough that there was a bucket! But I couldn't stay here if I didn't have food. As much as I wanted to wait for Beleg, I would starve. So I finally decided that if Beleg did not return by today's sunset, I would have to leave and go… somewhere.

* * *

The day passed by much too quickly for my last day at home. I felt horribly lonely and both Huan and Alatar were depressed and hungry. It made me wonder how I would get out of here at all. I couldn't leave Huan behind and I couldn't force him to walk. He was too old; he would die. I guess I would have to carry him with me on the horse. That sounds like a joy.

As the sun finally set, I picked myself up off the dank grass and clutched at Alatar's reins for support. I tied the quiver of arrows around my back and strung the bow over me like a sash. Getting Huan up on Alatar was a comical experience and it certainly helped to make the situation a bit lighter and give me a smile. I tried lifting Huan, but he was very heavy. He was a medium sized dog after all and trying to lift him over my head proved to be too much. I tried slinging him over my shoulder and climbing on, but I ended up doing quite a bit of falling so I had to give up on the route. Eventually, I figured out that, at command, Alatar could lie down and stand back up. Wish I figured that out earlier… But it didn't matter. I got on the saddle, called Huan to me, pulled him up in front of me, and clicked my tongue to make Alatar rise. And with a squirmy, nervous dog in my lap, I set off west.

Why go west? Well, last time I went west and found this place. I figured if I went further west, I would find another place where I could be welcome.

_

* * *

_

My sense of direction is terrible…

I was looking around me and holding the Wizard Alatar's map out in front of me. Huan kept sneezing and sniffing it, making things even more difficult. After peeking once more at the mountains to my back and the map in my hands, I decided I had gone south. Why couldn't I just follow the setting sun? Well, that proved difficult when I didn't know that the setting sun meant west until a few days ago.

_Ugh, I wish I could just give up…_ My stomach growled. Huan had stopped grumbling and sat obediently. Alatar walked at a snail's pace. _Wait, don't give up, don't give up. No more whining! You can pull through this. Just forget… Just forget… Everything will be okay if you treat this like any other day. Just forget about everything and keep going._

I nodded at my little self-pep talk, and gave Alatar a nudge. He seemed to get the message and sped up a bit. I don't blame him for sagging along though. We hadn't eaten anything for three days and we were travelling for two. I had a feeling though that it wouldn't last much longer. And really, it was good to have water. It was plentiful everywhere and as long as I had water, my stomach wasn't as upset as it could have been without it.

The landscape was changing. I left the tarnished golden fields of Rohan and was entering a snow filled climate. The area was more mountainous and there were many rocks and sloping cliffs. Alatar continued to follow along whatever safe path he could find and I didn't really direct him except forward. There were more trees here than I had ever seen clustered together before. It was strange to be able to reach out above my head and pick fresh leaves out of the trees. It was a little scary though when the leaves brushed against me and an insect decided I looked like an easy victim to scare. I would start screaming and making such a racket that anyone anywhere would know that a girl was in the trees yelling about something…

Too bad I didn't know that I would be discovered so soon. I would have been more careful. I heard the call of a bird like I had never heard before and feared that it was an orc signal of some sort. Alatar seemed to have the same fear too and sped up. Huan started to growl at shadows and whispers in the wind and I was severely jumpy.

"Hurry up, Alatar." I whispered in his ear and nudged his sides. I looked around me, feeling eyes. I hated that feeling. It was so eerie…

It all happened so fast. Like clockwork, four men came out of the brush at all sides bearing bows with arrows set and pointed at me. Their faces were covered by their hoods of their dark green cloaks. They were tall and I was clearly out of my league.

"I mean no harm." I declared in my bravest voice. Too bad for me that I hadn't spoken so loudly in quite awhile and my voice cracked horribly and ended in a squeak. They must've thought I was speaking another language.

The men did not move from their position, but three others came out from behind the trees and approached Alatar from the front. "Who are you? What business have you in the realm of Gondor?"

Gondor? The other kingdom of men Beleg was talking about… Okay. I kind of know where I am now. Helpful. "My business is my own, but I seek food and shelter."

The one in front prompted me to speak more.

"My home in Rohan was burned to the ground and all the horses stolen in an orc raid. I've nowhere to go." I explained.

"Why did you leave your borders?"

"I don't know where I'm going." I muttered. Wasn't that obvious? Thanks for making me say that out loud, buddy. That makes me feel _real_ smart.

He saw my eye roll and found it amusing. He let out a soft chuckle and turned to his comrades. He spoke words I didn't recognize or they were so softly spoken I had no hope of hearing them from where I was. In the end, the man turned back to me and said: "You shall be escorted to our Captain. If you resist, you must face the consequences of death."

Super.

I followed the men willingly enough. Hey, they were help, right? They made me get off of Alatar though and when I hit the ground I felt very bow-legged and stiff. I had ridden all that day and it was nearly sundown.

They thought it was funny that I had brought Huan from me and had carried him this far. They mocked me a little, but I could tell it was all in good fun. Heck, these guys could say I smelled like sewage and dressed like an orphan skank and I would have been happy. These guys were leading me to food.

* * *

We walked on through the forest for quite awhile in silence. We came to a large river and I was told to cross. How to cross a river? Here are some tips: 1) Do whatever the man in front of you tells you to do. 2) Do not trust shiny rocks; they are slippery. 3) Repeat, if the man in front of you tells you to do something like 'jump', jump. Otherwise, you'll end up waist deep in a freezing sink hole of ice cold pebbles and gushing water. No fun.

After our little river adventure in which Alatar was nearly dragged across and Huan was carried and eventually I too was carried, there was another two hours of walking. My feet pounded on monotonously until, quite suddenly, the men turned on me.

"Sorry, lady, but now we must shield your eyes for the paths ahead are secret and sacred to us."

Feeling suspicious as the fabric was tied around my eyes, I followed along at an unsteady pace. I was led along the path carefully and by the hand. The person who was leading me was careful so that I didn't stumble. The path rose and dipped repeatedly and I was blind the entire time. Sometimes though, I could feel the last fleeting burns of the sun as it was slowly disappearing and other times it felt so dark around me that I could reach out and touch the darkness. Eventually, by sidling along between rocks and making me very claustrophobic, I had to assume we were in some kind of cliff side entering a cave. Then without another thought, my blindfold was taken off and my eyes were blinking in the area around me.

It seemed like a cave, but it was not. It was a… castle carved into a mountain. That is the best I can describe it. At various points windows were carven in and I could see out towards the starry sky. There was vine growth and ancient trees scattered about and at the moment I was at a cross section of many halls where staircases and other rooms were accessed.

Three men stood nearby to guard me, but I was very happy to sit on the floor while I waited for a person of more authority to judge me and give me food. I wasn't sure where Alatar was put, but the men assured me he was safe. I stroked Huan as I sat on the stone floor and waited.

A man dressed in the same clothes as the others but with more pizzazz stepped out from an adjoining room talking to the man who led me here. Both of them had their hoods down and I could clearly see that the man who brought me here had dark hair and dark eyes. The Captain had dark brown hair and obvious grey eyes. He looked at me through the doorway every once in awhile at the indication of the first man. He was probably explaining my situation to his Captain. _I wonder what they're going to do to me…_

Finally the Captain came over to me and stood before me. Since I didn't stand up immediately, he courteously squatted down to my height on the floor. He seemed kind when he asked: "What is your name?"

"They call me Lady." I said.

"Lady? Is that the name your father and mother gave you?"

"No. I don't think so." I answered vaguely. I was very tired of explaining my amnesia again and again and quite honestly, when I thought about it, it was very depressing.

The Captain looked me over for a minute and into my eyes. It strangely felt like he could read my story as plainly as if it was written on my face. "You do not remember, do you?"

I shook my head.

"You must have an interesting story to tell." He smiled. "But now is not the time for such tales. My men will bring you food and blankets. You may be at your leisure here."

I smiled back, very grateful for his hospitality.

He held out his hand to me and I took it. He lifted me off the floor and I adjusted my men's clothes a bit. "Who are you?" I asked. I realized a bit too late it was very informal. "…sir?"

"Faramir." He bowed. With a glance at the man at my right, he turned and went off with the man I recognized as my guide and they started talking again.

The men behind me were much more relaxed after their captain approved of me. I was given a cot, blankets, and food as promised. I ate dried meat like I had eaten at the camp in the east and there was ale and apples. I had my fill, but surprisingly, I wasn't very hungry. It must've been because of my recent fasting: my stomach was smaller. Instead of pigging out like I was first ready to do, I snuggled up into the blankets and planned on making it an early night. Huan hopped up onto the cot with me, making it creak under the added weight. He curled up at my feet and closed his eyes. I pat his head, silently promising him things would be better before I too closed my eyes.


	11. Osgiliath

**Reminder:: **Yup, it's chapter eleven and I still don't own anything related to Tolkien. Well… Except my Lord of the Rings DVD box set and sound tracks… But that's beside the point!

Thank you so much for the comments I've been getting and e-mail notices from the alerts and favorites. It means so much and this story keeps going because of you guys! Keep it up! xD

That last chapter was rather short, I suppose, but I'm really excited to make my first canon character appearance. Well, technically, that was Alatar and Pallando, but since Tolkien didn't really write much about them, I consider Faramir my first canon! He's my favorite, so how could I do it any other way? =3 Please enjoy this next update! I also hope you'll know where Sarah is on the timeline now. Remember, it's still summer! n_n

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**Chapter Eleven :: Osgiliath**

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"Captain, can we trust her?"

"The girl?"

"Who else, my lord?"

Faramir glanced into the adjoining room. The young girl was curled up on a cot with her trusty old dog sleeping peacefully. She looked like she had travelled many miles. "For the most part, yes, I believe we can. She seems harmless enough. Did you not tell me before that her home was burned and raided by orcs? She has seen much for one of her age."

His comrade nodded and agreed reluctantly. Captain Faramir seemed to be too trusting of a man. It made him a good man but a weaker captain.

"Lord Faramir! Lord Faramir!"

The two men turned and stood to greet a messenger from Osgiliath entering the room at great haste. "Word from Osgiliath. There is a rag tag team of orcs making its way through our borders from out of the East. They are too many for our forces. They make for the city." He panted.

Faramir acted quickly on his words. "Gather the men. We make for Osgiliath immediately."

"And the girl?" The first man persisted.

Faramir was caught. He couldn't bring her into such danger, but he couldn't leave her here alone either… It was not that he did not trust the girl, but he wanted to keep a sharp eye on her. He felt there was more than meets the eye about a lost girl of the Rohirrim and her dog. Her horse was very lovely and well trained which upheld her story that she was of Rohan, but still… Something… seemed off.

"Lord Faramir?"

"Bring her with the company. She will be transported to Minas Tirith as soon as possible." Faramir decided.

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I spent the night in peaceful slumber, but awoke to be ravenous. I ate all the food that was brought before me until it made my stomach hurt. I ate like a beast, but I was finally content.

The men around me didn't say much, but they acted much the same as the first camp of men I was at with the blue wizards. Only… These men were much more professional and they had a certain air about them that was more… organized. That was the only word I could come up within the span of fifteen minutes I had to think before the older man who led me here appeared to talk to me.

I was standing this time, so he did not have to mirror his superior and kneel down to my level. I guess I saved him the courteous humility. "Lady? We must depart at once."

"At once? Um… Uh… Where is my horse?" I tried to think quickly.

"Ready when needed." He promised. He then turned to the man next to me. "We ride for Osgiliath by order of Lord Faramir. Blindfold the girl and make for the pass. She will have to ride with the company."

As the man strode off, a piece of fabric was quickly tied around my eyes. I had just enough time to snatch Huan and heave him up into my arms and carry him with me through the passages. Eventually though, someone noticed Huan was heavy for me and was slowing me down so they took him from me and carried him. I was still led along carefully, but this time the men were in a great hurry so I had to jog and run along with them. It felt good to run and stretch my limbs, but that wore off after ten minutes of the repeated process. Just when I thought I would have liked to stop and take a breather, the blindfold was removed from my eyes. We were in a section of the forest that I didn't recognize and Alatar was before me. I had ridden him bare back this entire time since I couldn't find a saddle in the ashes of my old home, but now he had a thick leather saddle that smelt new.

"Lady." The man next to me stated and held out his hand. He kindly helped me onto my horse and another man brought Huan to me.

"Considering you've ridden with him before—"

"I understand." I nodded, cutting him off. I couldn't expect anyone else to carry poor Huan. I just hoped I would be able to ride quickly with him balanced in front of me.

It was a lot easier to position Huan on my lap with the saddle there. It made him snugly pressed between me and the horn. A call was sounded and the men around me were on horses. I had two men on either side of me like sentinels to ride side by side until we reached our destination.

The pace was quick, but it wasn't too difficult to keep Huan with me the entire time. He squirmed a bit and nearly bit me once, but he didn't fuss much after awhile of riding. As the trees cleared, a valley opened and I was awestruck. A great city of white was before me inlaid in the land and moved with the river. Not far, across a few fields, stood a giant tower of white. An entire _city_ was carved into the mountain! On the other side of the city in the river was a stretch of dark mountains. I immediately recognized them. The first time I saw them was the moment I woke up in this world. I remembered their dark clouds and strain in the air. The tension and ominous threat they gave could have been cut with a blade.

I rode down the slopes with the company and into the city by the river. The horse hooves clipped against the bright stone as we entered the gates. I hadn't realized from a distance, but this city was deserted… It looked gloomy and ghostly against the grey skies. Many of the walls were broken. This city was in ruins… Why defend it? Was it sacred? So many questions I could ask…

But questions had to sit on my tongue until after battle. The men led me through the stone wreckage and told me to dismount my horse when we entered a small space of shelter between two columns.

The men who were supposed to guard me were anxious as we watched men in green cloaks and others in armor of silver and black run to and fro preparing their fort. There were shouts and calls and blasts of horns. Scouts ran about reporting to their superiors who reported to their superiors. From where I was, I soon learned that Faramir was the top superior of the group. I hadn't realized I had spoken with someone with so much authority over so many. Was he a king?

Just then there was a mighty yell that made everyone freeze and listen. "To the Northeast! Ten score!"

Two hundred orcs raced by foot towards Osgiliath, the city of ruins. Archers took down most of the first party, but soon they were over stormed by another wave. I could barely see anything from where I was under the columns, but what I could see didn't look very good. Just as I thought this, an archer was struck and fell over the forty foot barracks where he was standing and landed at my feet with a loud clang of his armor. I jumped back with a gasp into one of my guards. The archer was obviously dead.

"To the wall!"

I peeked out, being restrained by the shoulder, and saw a group of the green cloaked men charging up the stairs to the walls. They used their bows and shot down their enemies. I could hear the gurgling cries of the injured and dying orcs flood the battlefield. Those without bows took their swords and charged out of the gate into the onslaught. A stray arrow whistled by my face and clicked against the pillar behind me. I was pulled swiftly back into the shelter.

Huan was barking and being a general nuisance. I tried to silence him, but I didn't want to strike him too hard or smother him. The man on my right took the blindfold that was once used on me and wrapped it around his snout as a muzzle. I then held him close to calm him down. I was lucky Alatar was calm. That would've been a bit much.

The charge went on for another ten minutes or so until all became eerily quiet. One of the two men who were my guards looked to the other before peering out. He disappeared around the corner and walked slowly away. The man next to me became tense.

"Is it safe?" I whispered. My mouth was quickly covered.

My second guard stepped out after another minute and motioned for me not to move. I wouldn't dare!

I sat there, hearing my heart pound in my ears and the feeling of my stomach in my throat. I was shaking as I waited for a sound.

Suddenly, someone grabbed my shoulder. I spun around screaming and ready to fight to the death. I sent a swift kick their way which hit their shin guard and hurt my foot more than I intended to hurt them.

"Lady, be still! There is nothing to fear."

I opened my eyes and saw a man in silver armor. He was wearing a silver helm and he had a blood stained sword at his side. "All is well. Captain Faramir is in search of you. I have orders to lead you elsewhere."

To my relief, my guards soon came to fetch me, but saw that the soldier had already found me. I was glad to see they were well and said my quick farewell to them before they hurried off on other orders.

"Come with me." The armored man held out his hand.

I nodded and took it, pulling myself up off the ground. Following the man out into the open, I unwrapped the muzzle on Huan and he was immediately barking again. He was eager to sniff all the orc carcasses and bodies of a few unlucky men that were scattered about by the walls. "The orcs have retreated and the rangers have left to pursue them before they cross into the borders of Rohan." The soldier informed me.

"Rangers?" I asked.

"The Rangers of Ithilien." The man explained. "The Rangers of the South. You were in their care as I understand it. They will not be back; they are not tied to Osgiliath."

"Then why did they come?"

"They will follow Lord Faramir to the death. And as of now, Faramir is responsible for Osgiliath until Captain Boromir returns." The man said simply. "Well, you shall soon leave with a party of men into the city of Minas Tirith. You will be safe there."

I couldn't ask any more questions although I wondered how Captain Faramir faired. He was kindest to me after all. Couldn't I help in anyway? I felt I owed him that much.

It was too late for such courtesies. I did not get the chance of seeing Lord Faramir again and I never saw the man who guided me to the safety of Ithilien again. I never even knew his name…


	12. The White City

**Reminder:: **Tolkien's works are not mine, obviously. This is just a fan fiction.

Happy New Year everyone! A new year and a new place for Sarah to explore. n_n Sorry this update's a bit late, I've been really busy lately and my computer has been slow. Enjoy!

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**Chapter Twelve :: The White City**

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It was sunset when a small party arrived from Minas Tirith to 'collect' me. I wished to see off Captain Faramir and the man whose name I didn't know, but that luxury was not offered to me. As the men in black uniform prepared to leave after a long report from the warriors of Osgiliath, I went to round up Huan.

Alatar peacefully remained behind as I walked through the city ruins. The men's distant voices echoed in the stone. It soon grew silent as I passed through the rubble, trying to remember where I had come from. Being unfamiliar with this city, I could easily get lost.

Huan's barking soon caught my ears and I ran forward. My weathered boots tapped the stone. It was very eerie. The buildings and abandoned homes loomed over my head. I felt I was being watched by mortal eyes, as impossible as that may be.

As I rounded my third street corner, I finally heard Huan's signature sniffing. He was up ahead sniffing a doorway to a white building. It was very shady and I could barely see him.

"Huan! Come here," I ordered as I walked up to him. He saw me and emerged wagging his tail. I patted his head to congratulate him for his obedience and turned to leave.

For some reason, I felt I had to look back when I was at the end of the street. Huan was well ahead of me, eagerly running back to the men of Gondor, but something intrigued me. Looking at Huan's retreating form up ahead, I looked back and stepped back out onto the street.

The street was old. Very old. I did not know how old this city was, but it must've been thousands of years. The earth had changed and rocks were displaced from the ground's movements. Roofs were collapsed in, but otherwise, there were still pots and carving stones and bowls scattered about by the empty doors. It made me wonder what people thousands of years from where I was standing would think this city was. Would they even know the name? Would the artwork of the architecture and pottery still remain to be admired?

As I thought these things, I looked up to the sky and saw the clouds were still thickly gathered. A breach came every now as the sun poked through, but not from the east. Sun out of the west, telling of sundown, shone every now and again to take away the chill. Down the street, I was surprised to see a figure standing. Startled at first, I peered and squinted to see who it could be. It looked like a girl… As soon as I saw her, a ray of sun hit the street where she stood and she was gone. I waited impatiently for the clouds to pass and when they did, the girl was not there in the shade.

Uneasy, I turned around and ran down the street Huan took. It led me back to the familiar center fountain I had seen and the street after that took me to Huan sitting obediently before the guards.

They saw me approach and I must've had a look upon my face that stated my anxiety at what I thought I had seen.

"Is something the matter, lady?" The man across from me asked.

"I… um…" How could I possibly word it so that I didn't sound mad? Hm… I don't see how I could…

"Something troubles you." A man commented.

I nodded slowly. "I am not sure of what I have seen…"

They looked confused for the most part, but the man who first spoke guessed it: "A person?"

"Yes." I admitted. "They disappeared though, so my eyes must not be as they should."

"It has been rumored before that Osgiliath is haunted by those left behind. I would not dwell on it." The man smiled.

I bowed my head, accepting what he said and walked with them to the gate where I would take my leave. I couldn't help looking back once more though, curious to see more. My eyes were not satisfied by strange phenomena again, though, so I gave up after quickly scanning the city. I might not be here again after all.

* * *

The sun told us we only had an hour before it would be dark. I was told to get on Alatar and I waved my goodbye to those who remained in the city for… whatever their reason was to stay. Higher orders most likely. Our company passed through the gates and rode west through many fields and farms. We were not in a hurry, so there was plenty of time to look at the scenery while the sun lasted. Tillers were packing up their supplies as we passed and ready to go home to a warm supper. I hadn't worked today and I was ready for a warm supper.

The city before me was my favorite out of all the places I had seen so far. An entire civilization of people was carved into the rock of a mountain to form many levels for homes, markets, and the like. Thousands could comfortably live here and the walls seemed to be impenetrable. We passed through said outer wall with a password and every gate afterwards needed a password as well. I was gifted with a few curious glances as the leader of our troop gave them and rode to upper levels. The people here did not dress quite the same as my family in Rohan. We dressed for work. As we rose higher and higher on the levels of the city, people were dressed lavishly and looked like they hadn't ever chased a chicken in their life. It made me feel very inferior, but I suppose it's simply a different lifestyle.

The men started to split up after awhile to fill out other orders or return to their posts. Eventually, there was only I and two guards. Their uniforms were black, as I had previously stated, but they had a silver tree with seven stars hovering over top it like a crown. They must've been elite.

"Take her to the Houses. I will inform the Lord Denethor of the latest developments in Osgiliath." The first man stated and galloped off.

The second continued along and I followed at a slow pace to a more secluded section of the city. I caught a glimpse or two of a garden as we rounded the corner and gave up our horses to a stable boy. I looked at the young man, seeing some Linius in him. He smiled at me, but when I tried to smile back, I found only sadness and frowned, bowing my head to look at my feet. Huan followed close behind me as the man in guard uniform rapped on a door.

In a moment it was answered by an elderly man. He wore a badge or metal of some sort. It probably meant he was in charge here.

"Beregond? Of the Citadel? Is something the matter, milord?" The man asked quickly.

"Do not excite yourself." The man now labeled Beregond answered. "This is…?"

"Lady." I mumbled.

They looked at me for a moment before Beregond caught on. "Lady. She has forgotten her name and needs rest. She has traveled far. If you could watch over her until someone of more authority finds a better place she should be kept—"

"Yes, sir." The man nodded and smiled at me. "Come inside, child."

I looked at Beregond for permission and he nodded. "No need to fear, the girl will be taken care of."

Beregond nodded and walked away with a bow. I was led into a very smelly room. Not smelly in a bad way, I suppose. It was rather stuffy but intoxicating in its own way. There was some sort of plant burning. The smoke reminded me of all the fires I had seen… I did not like fire.

The man closed the door behind him and walked across the room to a branching hallway. He beckoned me to follow and for the millionth time since I landed here, I obeyed. He led me to a room that faced west. Really, the Houses of Healing were rather large. I probably could have gotten a room that faced anywhere. But for some particular reason, I was given this room. There was a small bed, a chair, a wash basin on a desk, and a window. The warden told me to wait here so he could find some help.

When the door was closed, I gave Huan a hug. I was glad they didn't take him from me. He hopped up onto the bed and I made my way to the window. There was a small latch that was rather high up, so I had some difficulty opening it. I ended up standing on the rickety chair and jumping up to unlatch the window and nearly falling down. I pushed on the glass and peered out over the landscape. The wall made a sheer drop down from my window that led to a street below. The house across from me was at least a floor shorter so I could see well above it. The sun was gone, but I imagined I would be able to watch the sunset most days from here. I think I would like that.

Suddenly the door opened so I shut the window but didn't latch it. There was a woman carrying a tray with some simple food items. She also had a bucket strung through her arm. She looked very kind but stressed out. Her face was rather thin and her fingers were spidery but quick as she went about her work. She gave me a soft smile and set down the tray. She adjusted her bonnet-like hat that concealed most of her grey hair before introducing herself.

"Hello, dear. I'm Ioreth! Come, come! Time to freshen up. What's your name, dear?"

"They call me Lady."

"Hm, never heard of that being done before. But the warden says you've been through quite a lot. Are you hurt?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so."

"Well, I had better have a look anyway. I hear you've travelled far. From Rohan! Lovely country, I hear it is. Nice to hear from the Rohirrim, it is."

Rohirrim? I was familiar with the term. I remembered once I asked Beleg what people of Rohan were named. Like those of the East were Easterlings and so forth. He answered we were Eorlingas, but many referred to us as the Rohirrim, or the horse-lords.

"Do you know what's been going on in Edoras, young lady? Everyone is most anxious to hear about the developments of the war in Rohan." Ioreth pressed as she helped me undress.

I was feeling too awkward to answer her right away. "Er – no, I have never been to Edoras."

"Really? What a shame. I was hoping to hear of something. Oh, that's quite alright dear, no harm done. I'm not one to gossip, but it's always nice to be informed on the current events, don't you agree?"

To my surprise, another two women randomly walked in. I was glad to at least have underwear… They brought with them a heavy wooden tub with bathing things. I honestly couldn't thank them enough.

Ioreth then left so I could bathe by myself. She promised to get me fresh clothing before she left me to scrub away the travelling dust. When she soon came back, I was out of the tub and as dry as I could get. What she brought as clothes puzzled me. I had seen other women wear things like it, but I never tried.

"Have a nice bath? You look much better already! A few days of rest would do you well, too. Yes, yes, put that on. Much better suited to you than these man clothes."

What she pulled over my head was much more comfortable than pants, so I didn't complain. No matter how strange it was. It felt like pants whose legs were split open and then sewed to each other. It was nice, and surprisingly not chilly. The fabric was very warm.

"What is this?" I asked, looking down and choking a little. Ioreth was tightening the strap about my waist a little tighter than I would have liked.

"My, aren't you thin? Must get some meat on those bones!" She laughed. "Oh, what's what dear? The dress? Never worn one? My… Never heard of that before either… Seems a bit… anyway, I'm glad it fits you well. Why don't you eat something? Here, take some bread. Go on, it won't bite."

I started to eat while she continued to adjust my dress. After the tightening and prodding, it wasn't nearly as comfortable as it had begun with. Afterwards, she brushed through my hair and made the blankets ready for sleeping. Wait… This was only a night dress? I couldn't imagine what a dress would feel like during the day…

"There you are! Just come and call if you need me. I'll be back tomorrow morning with your breakfast ready. Sweet dreams!"

I waved to the kind lady and snuggled into the heavy covers. From where I lay, I could see out the window at the dark sky. I rolled over and could see the door. The hinges were on the opposite side, so if someone opened it, I would be able to see out into the hall, too. As I was about to close my eyes, a shadow passed by the door. The torch like was blocked a bit and then completely blotted out by the arrival of another figure.

"So who is she, Ioreth? Did she say anything interesting?"

"She says she's from Rohan!"

"My! Quite a distance to travel on one's own!"

"That's what I said, dear, that's what I said." Ioreth's voice agreed.

The other female voice pressured for more. "Anything else? What's her name?"

"That's just the thing – says she doesn't remember."

"Oh, the poor dear."

"My thoughts exactly. Must've been roughed up quite a lot to have the memory knocked clean out of her like that. Such a pity."

"Yes, a pity."

"What interested me the most though, is her reaction when I brought her a dress. Says she never worn one before!"

"No! Unheard of!"

"Quite, quite! So I says, too. Just thinking to meself though 'what kind of a home was she raised in'? Not a very civil one if they make their women wear pants! Can you imagine? Cavorting about in trousers all the day?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Exactly. Well… At least she's here now. I'll take good care of her. Make sure she knows all the customs and the like. Perhaps she could help me with the herbs… I've been needing a runner since Menel left and got married. Now she's up to her eyeballs in sons!"

"So I've heard!" The other voice gossiped. "'Course you can't send her out quite yet."

"Oh, no! She has much resting to do. Quite tired, poor thing. But did you hear from Taurwen about the—"

Hear her voice became too quiet for me to eavesdrop. The other women then exclaimed an: "No! Really?" before the shadows disappeared down the hall with giggles.

I thought about what I had heard. Even though one may feel sorry for themselves at times, it's really not fun to be pitied. Makes one feel pathetic and degraded. Helpless. Like I haven't a chance at happiness in the world. Do I though? Ever since I can remember, this world has thrown every horrible pot shot its got my way to make my life all the more miserable. It could only get better, right? But would it? Is it even possible? I was too tired to think about it any further. But as I drifted off to sleep, I wondered what was ruder... Gossiping or eavesdropping?


	13. Second Go

**Reminder:: **If you recognize it, I don't own it. Simple as that, right?

Yup, there's a new summary, but it's the same story. I figured I should make it more unique and interesting… At first I wanted an excerpt, but that would be too long. Eh, what can ya do? x3

Thanks so much for all the reviews, colbub! Totally made my day. n_n Here's the next chapter – I'm really excited to get moving again. Hopefully I can finally get into my main plotline soon. xD

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**Chapter Thirteen :: Second Go**

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Ioreth brought me breakfast the next morning and the morning after that, and the next morning, and the next morning, and even the morning after that. She was very kind to me and even though I was positive I had my strength back by the fourth day, she kept me confined to my room for two weeks 'just to be sure'. I only saw Ioreth and the warden. The other women and girls helping in the Houses kept obediently away from me like I had a disease or something. I suppose it was rather kind of them to care that I would recover as quickly as possible without interference, but I would have liked a little company. Huan of course was great company, but I could tell he didn't like being cooped up with me either. At least he was let outside. Unlike me, he was free to roam the halls and all the girls and children were very fond of him.

Spending those weeks in my room was very relaxing, but I felt rather fidgety. When I felt like I needed some air, I would open up the window and lean outside for awhile, taking in the fresh summer air. Autumn would approach soon. Very soon. The few trees that I could see were very tiny but they were ready to change colors. All the greenery was in the small gardens around the Houses or way out in the Pelennor Fields, which I came to know as the townships and farmlands that surrounded the city.

I loved to look out my window down at the street. People would pass by every now and then and sometimes a daring salesman or two would set up market booths where passersby could trade for things like cabbages, potatoes, and carrots. One man tried to set up a stand for poultry, but he did not have permission or something and I watched as he was led away by city guards. That was the most interesting thing to happen all week.

Ioreth tapped on the door before entering with the usual breakfast tray. "Good morning, Lady! Breakfast as usual. We have some nice toast today, too. Good wheat bread – very fresh. And today's another bath day, too! I bet you would like to change out of that night gown and into a fresh one, no? Perhaps I can convince the warden to get some spare materials for a dress for you. You could use a nice dress."

I smiled and listened to her frequent chattering. She beckoned me over and I helped to set the desk with the food. There was milk and bread and butter as promised. I wasn't too hungry this morning, so it was plenty. There was also some sort of herb concoction that I was supposed to take every morning. Ioreth told me it was to help me recover quicker.

I pretended to sip the herb juice that tasted very sweet. It was a strange texture, and it would probably be bitter if Ioreth didn't add any sugar to it. It always made my muscles relax. She stood by and watched me eat my breakfast and bustled about the room every now and again to fix something she thought looked imperfect. Like the bed sheet was lopsided. Or the pillow needed to be fluffed. Or the latch on the window wasn't locked. Things like that she did every day, but when she was latching my window, I threw her herb concoction into my waste bucket.

"Ioreth?"

"Yes, dear?"

"May I go out to see the gardens soon? I feel much better, thanks to you, and I would very much like some fresh air."

"Hm…" Ioreth struggled with her words for a minute before making up her mind. "That doesn't sound like a good idea, dear. I would like to keep you in for a few more days… Just to—"

"Just to be sure." I sighed, finishing her sentence.

"Oh, don't pout! Everything will turn out just fine, you'll see." Ioreth gave me a pat on the shoulder and a quick squeeze. She was so… hm. I couldn't think of a good word for her… Perhaps it was… A word that Linius used to tease me with… Oh! That's it. Motherly. Ioreth was very motherly.

"I'm sorry. I've been impatient. That wasn't right of me to ask." I apologized. I mean, after all, she was taking care of me with her own volunteered time. She wasn't obligated to visit me, or make me dresses, or give me extra treatments.

"No, no, you're fine, dear. Now let me take that for you. Good! I'll be right back with the bath water!"

Ioreth hurried out with the tray as I finished chewing. By the time I stood up, the same two girls I had first seen bring in a tub of water were back. Only now I realized they looked exactly the same.

As Ioreth came back in to help me with whatever, I couldn't help but continue to stare at the two girls. I didn't realize I was being so rude until one of them quietly asked: "Yes?"

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean—" I said. "I just have never seen two people look exactly the same before… How do you do that?"

The girl on the left let out a giggle. The one who addressed me simply smiled. "We're twins. We were born like this."

"That's amazing!" I grinned. They seemed quite surprised that it made me so excited, but honestly, anything would excite me that was just the slightest bit different after being in here so long. It was like a prison! But somehow, in the back of my mind, these two girls that were twins, something I had never seen before, were eerily familiar to me…

"All right now, into the tub with you!" Ioreth started to untie my night gown.

"I can do it," I laughed and held the back closed. Ioreth, put out of the job, gave up and ushered the twins out of the room so I could bathe.

* * *

I soaked in the warm water for awhile before I finally stepped out clean. It seemed that Ioreth had some sort of psychic ability because she entered the room right when I started having trouble putting on my fresh night gown. She tied it up, gave me a slimming sash for me to wear during the day and remove at night, and sat me down in the chair.

Whipping a comb out of nowhere, Ioreth started to stroke my hair for me. It felt nice and I enjoyed her company. Only… I couldn't help thinking again of my so innocent little thought… But it stuck and it bothered me. _It was like a prison! _Was it? Really? Am I simply over-reacting or is Ioreth not letting me leave because I'm not allowed to?

"—you know dear, if I found some nice combs, your hair is plenty long for a very nice up do. And they would be black! Like the gown you would wear. And you would wear a silver circlet about your head. Oh, how I wish I had a daughter to dress up. She would look like a queen of Gondor! If only I had the money—"

"Ioreth, I'm sorry, but am I a prisoner?"

This startled her enough that she accidentally yanked my hair. Perhaps I should have asked her the question when the comb _wasn't_ in my hair… Ow.

"What, dear? Don't be ridiculous!"

"I'm not. I've been locked in here for two weeks, maybe more. And I can't even go to the gardens and they're right outside my window…"

"Oh, don't be silly—"

"But, Ioreth, please!" I sighed. "Don't think I haven't noticed the herb potions. I'm really not that thick. They may taste sweet, but that doesn't mask how heavy they are. They're not helping me 'recover' any; they make me go to sleep!" I decided not to add that part about me throwing them in my waste bucket though. Who knows, she might force me to drink it if she knew.

Ioreth scrambled. It was obvious she was searching her mind for a good answer, but couldn't come up with one. Finally she sighed. "Yes, Lady, you are being detained."

"But why?"

"Don't sound so frightened, dear. It's just that… The Steward would like to see you and I can't easily keep you in the Houses without everyone else thinking you still need to be here."

"But why do I need to stay—"

"It was asked of me by the warden who was asked by one of the high Guards of the Citadel by the Steward himself! That kind of order isn't to be taken lightly."

"So you're supposed to keep drugging me so I can't escape?"

"No, no, no!" Ioreth scolded. "Sounds so foul when you put it that way… Dear, the Steward wants your condition… kept low for awhile."

"Why? Am I harming anyone? How does he know?" I became cold. Amnesia wasn't a _condition_. They made it sound like I was contagious or unstable or something. I was sure that once my memory was back, I would be quite the same. I mean, really? Give me a break. I'm a girl who looks to be just out of adolescence. What would a youth have to do with large world problems? How could I possibly be hurting anyone with my own personal burden?

"Now, Lady, calm down. The Lord Denethor just would like to ask a few questions of you, that is all. You're a fine girl, Lady, but apparently he knows something I don't. The Steward's been mighty busy lately, so he hasn't been able to arrange a meeting with you. I am supposed to make it look like you're too ill to leave. Otherwise, people around here will start to get suspicious that you aren't who you say you are, that you have amnesia, you were touched by dark magic, who knows what else! Lies and rumors spread like wildfire in a big city like this one, and if you don't want to get nasty glares and whispers, I suggest you listen to me and stop all the conspiracy theories."

To say the least, I was ashamed. I hung my head in the awkward silence that no one could seem to break. I finally let out a quick gulp. "Is… is that why you wanted to make me a dress? Because you… had to?"

"Oh, dearie!" Ioreth cooed and pulled me into a hug. "I care about you, Lady, no orders needed. You're a bright, pretty girl, and if the Steward doesn't like you, shame on him! I'll take you right home and you can be my dress up doll."

I let out a laugh and smiled up at her and she wiped away my stray tear. It was nice to feel someone care about me. It strongly reminded me of Beleg, but it was vastly different, too. This must be what a mother is like. It made me hurt for Linius even more that he lost his.

* * *

Since I had discovered Ioreth's herb tricks, she promised me I wouldn't have to take it anymore as long as I promised I wouldn't talk to anyone about anything. It was an easy enough deal to make considering I didn't know anyone but her.

So for the next three weeks after that, Ioreth taught me a little about herbs. I could never remember what they were for though. I could identify them by appearance easily enough though. Soon Ioreth was having fun quizzing me by holding up a dried plant and telling me to name it. It was just before autumn began and Ioreth was willing to let me go about the forest with her to collect herbs. It sounded like great fun to escape the Houses and I was looking forward to it all that week.

"Here, you are, Lady!" Ioreth presented with pizzazz a wicker basket. She reached inside and held up a brown dress with dark green trim. "It's not the most beautiful, but it's warm and it will serve its purpose."

"Thank you!" I said and gave her a hug. Ioreth helped me into the frock and when she was done tying and adjusting, I had great fun spinning around in circles to feel the fabric skirt flare out about me like flower petals.

"Come, now, enough of the sillies. Grab that basket and get ready for some work."

Ioreth and I snuck out of the Houses of Healing as casually as possible and tottered out way down the white streets of Minas Tirith. Huan was allowed to tag along with me and he was excited to leave the city as much as I was. We were ready for fresh air and open farms again. I tried to keep my eyes focused on the cobblestone like a good girl, but the sky was a clear blue (except for the dismal-as-ever East of course) and the architecture was simply too gorgeous to not gape at like a commoner. When Ioreth saw me staring up, she would give me a sharp pat and tell me to pull my shawl closer around my head. I adjusted the musty thing and we continued to walk down, down, down until we were freed from the city completely. Luckily the guards knew Ioreth so they let us out and promised to let us back in when we had collected the plants we needed.

"So where are we going, Ioreth?" I asked as I struggled to keep up with her. For looking like she was in her later years, she had quite a powerful stride. Huan burst ahead of us and enjoyed barking raucously at the farmhands tending their fields or sniffing out the path of some sort of rodent.

"Oh, how I wish we could venture to Lossarnach… Lovely country, if you ask me. Raised there meself! But alas, we haven't the time or horses today. Today we are going to the thin patches in the rocks where I know of some good places to find things like rosemary and thyme. And if we're lucky, perhaps some Goldenseal – does wonders on infections."

We made an immediate right when we left the city taking the main road to the South. But soon Ioreth turned right again and followed a dirt path through the tall stalks of corn that went up over our heads. The path grew thinner and thinner until we had to squeeze through. While the scratchy leaves and stalks were slapping my sides and face, I was still glad because Ioreth knew the way through this mess.

When we exited the corn field, we were almost right up against the mountain. There was a small overhang off the side that shaded a fertile area of grass that was rather muddy. Corn couldn't grow there, but there were plenty of herbs that Ioreth would be interested in.

"Ah, ha!" Ioreth immediately exclaimed. She stooped and rose quickly with a small grunt. "See this?"

She held up a plant that look somewhat like ivy, but very different with little flowering buds on it. I nodded.

"Goldenseal. Very useful. If you find anymore, put it in the basket. Best to pull it up by the bottom and make sure you get the root."

I obeyed and searched for the plant she showed me. Huan, being the foolish dog he is, decided to roll around the second he saw the mud and even crushed a few of the plants I was looking at that I thought to be Goldenseal. A few times I had to go back to the one she picked to make sure I found one before I decided to pull it out of the ground. For such a wet area, it was rather hard to heave the herb out of the earth. After only four plants, I was tired of yanking. Ioreth had already found seven.

"How do you work so quickly?" I let out a sarcastic laugh and took a deep breath as I had another go and dug my hands into the dirt.

"Practice." Ioreth answered shortly; something she rarely ever did.

After collecting thirteen of the Goldenseal plants, Ioreth moved on to look for thyme and sage. After a few hours of staring at the ground, we found some sage and gingerly plucked it from the ground. It was near sundown when Ioreth stated we had better give up on the thyme and head back to the city.

"Oh! And we never found the rosemary! And I wanted to make that into tea for you."

"Tea?"

"Yes, dear." Ioreth nodded as we walked back up the road, finally out of the corn with our loaded baskets. "I haven't ever tried it with… someone of your condition, but I imagine it would do wonders for you. Haven't been able to find some for quite some time, I'm afraid. My mother always told me it aided memory, so obviously it would help you along."

I smiled at the kind thought. She was just so nice to me. I was so lucky to have so quickly found someone else to stick with. I wouldn't make it long on my own.

We reentered the city and were soon hurrying up the steps and slopes to the Houses of Healing. The warden met us at the door, but Ioreth held her ground. He wasn't as upset as I thought he would be that I was out of my room, but he was happy to see that Ioreth had found a use for me instead.

I brushed the dust from my dress and put on my night gown readily enough, not realizing before how comfortable it really was. Ioreth promised we would go out again soon to a different spot to search for rosemary and then left me to sweet dreams. I quickly washed off my arms, legs, and face from the dirt of the day and plopped into bed.

The torch in the hall was still flickering under the door, but otherwise my room was dark except for the window. Feeling curious at the bluish glow from outside, I hopped out of bed and propped up the chair next to the window. The stream of light was beating down on me already as I unlatched the window and leaned out.

The whole city was pulsating with the beautiful light. I had never seen anything like it. It was lovely and exhilarating. I could see as far out as I could see during the day with minimal shadow. The white city was shrouded in pure, natural light.

I stared up at the sky and saw the cause. A full, shining moon as bright as the sun. I stood there at my window sill for quite awhile taking in the amazing view before I remembered I was tired and should be in bed. Huan, curious as to why I suddenly got out of bed in the first place, stared at me from the foot of the bed and wondered what was so great about the moon.

Sighing to myself, I closed the window, hopped off the chair, and got back into bed, shoving Huan aside so I could get some room for my feet. Of course, he crawled right back into place and I stroked his head for awhile. This time I faced the window and fell asleep to my, perhaps not so terrible, oblivious life.


	14. The White Hall

**Reminder:: **I still don't own anything of Tolkien's.

Nothing to report on this end. Hope January is treating you all well! Curl up with a fuzzy blanket and a hot cup of something and enjoy this next chapter. n_n

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**Chapter Fourteen :: The White Hall**

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Sarah spent about a week with Ioreth, travelling about the surrounding lands of Minas Tirith to gather herbs. Sarah couldn't retain much, but her curiosity was piqued by what Ioreth had said about rosemary. Could it really jog her memory? She had to try at least. When Ioreth sent her out to fetch certain herbs with precise instructions where to find them, Sarah would hurry up so she could spend the rest of her time searching for rosemary. It shouldn't be too uncommon, right? Then why was it constantly evading her? Wasn't there some in the city? Could it be traded for? But what could she trade? Wherever she turned, obtaining a simple herb like rosemary seemed hopeless and her doubts continued through the rest of August and into late September.

Autumn was in full bloom, a strange thing to say perhaps, but the plains were yellowing with ripe wheat and barley and the lands were slowly deadened for winter. So far, Sarah's time spent in Middle-Earth has been confusing for her and often times troubling and depressing. In fact, in our calendar, (if only she knew) Sarah arrived in Middle-Earth exactly a year ago today. It's September 21st, the day before a certain hobbit pair's birthday and many events start to roll together in our little world.

Rumors of black riders have already reached many ears (and watchful eyes) in Minas Tirith, but Sarah remains ever oblivious. From what she hears from chamber-maids and the gossiping Ioreth, she just thinks that men on horses ride out of the East. Could she know them? What is their purpose? So many simply answered questions for poor, dim-witted Sarah.

And there she stands, so thoughtlessly in her room, staring out the window for the hundredth time since she arrived in her unofficial prison.

The night wasn't as beautiful as I had seen before in this city. There was no moon and I couldn't see far ahead of me. I could see the street below me and a few towers silhouetted against the sky, but that was all. It was getting rather chilly, too, so I shut the window earlier than usual tonight and walked back to my bed.

I repositioned Huan so that he wasn't completely in my way. He likes to hog the bed. As I snuggled into the covers, thinking about sleep, I heard a strange noise coming from outside. I tip-toed over to the door and peered out. A single torch was lit a little ways down the hall, but there wasn't a soul in sight. Must be from outside.

I hurried up to the window and peered out. I still couldn't see much of anything and nothing stood out as unusual. It took me a minute to realize that the sound I heard was a wail or a groan. Was someone hurt? Or was my mind playing eerie tricks on me tonight?

Trying to shrug off the spooks, I dashed back to bed and pulled the covers over my head. So much for sleep, I guess…

* * *

Sleep didn't avail me like I thought it would, but I was roused particularly early by a frantic looking Ioreth. "Up, up!" She parted the curtain over the window after shaking my shoulder.

"Wha-? The sun's not even risen yet…" I grumbled, catching sight of the dark window and rolling over.

"Oh, I don't think so, young lady. You shake off the lazies and get yourself up and about! The Lord Denethor wishes to see you this morning."

That got me up. The Lord Denethor? Really? Finally? After how long? I was scared out of my socks to see someone with so much authority over me, but I felt honored, too. If he was such a busy guy that I had to wait for an appointment with him for over a month, he must be very powerful indeed. And tired. And most likely irritable.

Ioreth refused to let me put on my normal herb-gathering clothes and instead fit me into the dress that she had been preparing for this 'special occasion'. It was a simple blue dress that was very modest and it was supposed to be a sign of respect. It wasn't like what Ioreth first pictured: all decked out with silver and dripping with gems, but I rather liked it. It felt cozy and the fabric was soft. There wasn't too much embroidery except on the sleeves where little stars were sewn in. The sleeves were long and airy, the skirt all flowy, and the neck line was a neck line. Crew neck for specifics. There was a lighter colored sash that was tied around my middle and made into a bow in the small of my back.

"It's been carefully made to make you look as innocent as possible." Ioreth couldn't help but laugh at her own scheme as she bustled to and fro, preparing me for the day. "If I put a flower in your hair, no one could possibly dream you have anything to do with anything important."

"But I don't."

"Exactly, but they don't believe that. You'll just have to convince them you don't know anything and you're speaking the truth." She was picking up the dress I described, but instead of fitting it over me, she took something from underneath it. I went and picked up the dress, examining the waistline.

"Isn't this a bit small?" I asked, holding the dress up to my body. It certainly didn't look like the same size of dress I was fit for.

"Heavens, no, you'll fit alright." She quipped. "Fine, fine, enough of that. Turn around, dear. You might want to hold onto the desk."

Confused, I obeyed and leaned into the desk like she told me to. A corset was wrapped around my middle like I sometimes wore, but this one was new and scratchy. Ioreth insisted it was very nice fabric though. Then, before I could say anything else, the air was shoved out of my lungs when she pulled harshly on the strings.

"Ah!" I let out a gasp and hugged my stomach. All my organs were being squished together and it felt like my bones would crack. "Must it be – so tight?"

"Yes, dear." Ioreth said through her own gritted teeth. She was pulling with all she was worth – and that was surprisingly quite a bit.

"Is this-" I took a deep breath. "—normal for girls to do here?"

"Yes, dear." Ioreth answered shortly again. She then thought about it and decided to elaborate a little more. "Girls in the higher classes, that is."

"I thought I was supposed to look…" My head spun. This was ridiculous! "… innocent?"

"Giving you a slimmer figure is all the more innocent, dear. Anyway, there's no reason to throw you in front of our Steward for inspection looking anything less than the best." Ioreth argued. I didn't understand it. "You'll look so fit and lovely! There! Now, spin around for me, I want to see that it's flattened down."

I let go of the desk, thankful for it, feeling my fingers throb after such a tight grip. I turned to face her with some effort and put on a doubting smile.

Ioreth tugged a few spots and smoothed me out before stepping back and deciding I was ready for the dress now. Now that I can't breathe. "Good, good. In you go!"

The dress was fit over me and tied back. It was true: I fit into the tiny thing but only just barely. Not to mention, I was so terribly uncomfortable. I hoped that this 'inspection' or 'interrogation' wouldn't last too long for I surely wouldn't.

As I was given a last hug by Ioreth, I exited the Houses of Healing under the watchful guard of three men. Seriously? Three men? What did they think I was going to do? Over power one of them and then take out the second when he wasn't looking? Needed three men to escort a little girl?

My sarcastic mindset lasted as we simply walked up to the White Hall. I was feeling less and less honored with every step I took. What kind of person was he that he expected me to be all dolled-up before I faced him? What makes him so high and mighty? Who does he think he is, king? I didn't realize how hard that last comment would fall if I said it out loud until much later.

We finally twisted around the early sun-lit corridors and streets and climbed a set of white stairs to a large door. Two men opened up the doors and the four of us marched straight through. Two other men closed the doors from inside.

_

* * *

_

Who was this girl? Why had he seen her in the palantir? What use was she?

Denethor, looking much closer to a weary laborer having spent the whole of last night gazing into one of the last palantirs, was rubbing his temples and staring into the wall of his private tower. All the windows were blotted out and the door was locked, so he could spend his time here safely.

He was tired. Out of all the horrible things he had seen in the palantir, this one thing confused him more than any other. A woman – no! A silly little girl, of all things! She couldn't be more than twenty years… What was her significance in Sauron's plans?

Denethor had seen her. Not only once, but a few times, repeating the same task over and over. He knew it was her – he could not clearly see her face, but he watched as she struggled in the wilderness, fled from a barren field, and even met up with his son before arriving in his city. Yes, his city… In the scene he kept seeing, the girl was standing in a dim room, pointing her finger boldly at him. She was scowling and her eyes were lit with flame. Her words were seldom heard, but when they were loud enough to hear, no softer than a whisper, what she spoke greatly disturbed him. _…kill… -mir! … kill… your son!_

What it could mean could branch out into a million things because it was so hard to hear. But the look on her face told him everything he needed to know. Obviously 'mir' was only part of what 'your son' referred to and that son was obviously Boromir, the one with promise. The other was a spare for wars and trifles. His heir was Boromir. And she was ordering someone to kill him. Kill his son. Kill his heir. Kill his line!

And what he had seen last night had kept him from dreams. The girl was dressed in full armor (of all things!), wielding a sword as she struck down upon her adversary. He could not see much more than that for this vision was brief.

But on what grounds of authority could such a young girl order the death of his son? None. So she had taken him out herself… His son! A son who was away, soon to return with a mighty gift? Denethor couldn't help but smile, picturing his eldest triumphantly returning with the Ring of Power clutched firmly in his grasp, ready to give to his awaiting father. What a good lad he was! A good warrior. A good man. A great king he will be, too! When he delivers his people out of this darkness that has been constantly looming over them, ever growing, ever knowing, ever foreboding.

Those thoughts are for later.

The palantir was teasing his mind with this image again and again of his downfall – one thing he feared most. And it was mocking him. That it should happen at the hands of one so young! So ridiculously young and inferior. He must kill her. But that might bring on the event too early… And how does he know that the girl hasn't already committed the deed?

Denethor stood. Enough of this waiting! He must speak with this girl now for no one else can wheedle it out of her. All the reports he received on her 'condition' of oh-so convenient amnesia were steadily the same. She was unchanged and she still has yet to remember her own name. Her name! Probably too dark to utter in these halls, so she keeps her mouth shut and out of suspicion! Waiting for his son to return… Ridiculous!

* * *

A short while later, Denethor sits down on his lesser throne after eyeing enviously the greater throne built for the 'king'. Preposterous! He was as good as any king and so was his father before him and his father before his father. No man deserves that throne more than the line of Stewards who have patiently waited for such a nonexistent man to show up and decide that he does indeed exist. Pah! Boromir will return with the Ring and after it is safely tucked away, who will want some stranger on the throne? Who will want anyone other than his son Boromir?

A twinge of envy entered his heart as he thought of himself as king. But those days have passed. His heir is all his has left… And Denethor could not dwell on these tiring thoughts any longer for the doors were opened and in walked the girl he was determined to kill.

But unexpectedly to the Lord Denethor, Ioreth's scheme to make her look innocent and respectable worked wonders. As Sarah stepped into the hall, Denethor grew weak.

Finduilas? No! No! This could not be right at all… Her hair may be different, but her face… and her eyes – even from here the man could see they resembled his late wife's. She was so young… Not much younger than Finduilas when they married… She even had her nose – that same small curve at the top but it flattened out at the bridge and ended small.

The girl let out an audible intake of breath as she looked around the room in admiration and wonder. Something that Finduilas had done when he first met her in much the same fashion. He, a man much older, was to wed a girl not older than twenty-six years old with a smiling face and a heart so kind and innocent… Now that Denethor tried to recall the scowling snarl on the girl's face he had seen in the palantir, the more he could not for he was now putting it to the face of his wife.

I felt the honor come flooding back to me when I entered and saw the tall pillars of stone. All in white, like the moonlit glow I had witnessed, the room was teeming with glory and charm. I was awestruck at the high ceilings and artwork that surrounded me at every corner and angle. I knew that I let out a gasp the minute I saw the amused smile on the Lord Denethor's face.

He was not what I expected. Not in the least. I was expecting a young man for some reason. Even though I had heard about him and his years as the Steward, I associated his title to a younger face. This man before me was robed in black and his hair was grey and steadily growing whiter with age. As I finally neared him and bowed like the others around me (only I curtsied), his eyes were glassy but filled with knowledge and a hidden spark of fear and pity. This man had lived through much and seen much sorrow. I could feel it.

No words were spoken, but the three guards sort of melted away. I stood before the Lord Denethor feeling very self-conscious as his eyes scanned me for a few minutes. It felt like an hour before he finally said: "They call you Lady, am I correct?"

At first, I was stupidly startled at the suddenness of the simple question. All I could do was nod my head since I found no voice.

The girl nodded and continued to look like Finduilas. He half hoped that it would wear off after some amount of time, but the striking similarity did not vanish. In fact, it seemed to continue to grow as she stood there awkwardly, trying to keep eye contact as calmly as she could. He thought it humorous he was frightening her so.

"That doesn't quite sound like a name to me." Denethor commented.

What is that supposed to mean? That can't be his first thought as I enter the door! Isn't he supposed to be mean and scary and questioning? Intimidating and harsh and unjust? What happened to the rumors of bitterness? Of lingering hatred and paranoia?

"I… I have forgotten mine, sir – my lord." I quickly corrected, bowing my head. I couldn't stand looking into his face any longer. What if he was the kind of ruler who liked to toy with their prey before they sentence them to an extremely painful and drawn out death? He couldn't possibly be serious…

Ah, Denethor was slowly being pulled back to reality. It was already taking all his wit to keep him from calling the girl 'Finduilas', but this simple release back into her made up story of amnesia was pouring back into him sluggishly but surely.

"Ah, Yes. I had almost forgotten."

Sarah did not have an answer for Denethor. She was too baffled and terrified to utter any more intelligible words at the moment. She simply looked up, ready to hear what he had to say.

"Fin—" Despite his efforts, he had so idiotically started to betray his wife's name to her without saying a word of what he had originally intended. It was so easy though. It was like she was back from the dead…

Making up his mind, Denethor spoke: "Finwen. I shall call you Finwen. Will you take the name?" It was better than calling the girl Finduilas, close as it had been. Anyway, this name fit this girl. She was like Finduilas, but she was smaller in a way. Like a daughter.

I nodded quickly. The last thing I had expected was to be named, but I was relieved in a way. He seemed to take a liking to me already. The corset must've really worked! It does make people like you!

Anyway, he could've named me 'Penniless Bastard Child' and I would've taken that as a compliment right now.

"Come. You have not eaten this morning." Denethor said, reading her mind or hearing her stomach. At his command, the breakfast table was laid and Sarah was given the honor of eating with the Steward himself in the White Hall all because of her nose.


	15. Lord Denethor's Sons

**Reminder:: **Nope, Tolkien's stuff still isn't mine.

I'm so sorry for the insane delay. Don't have any excuse except school and the oh-so typical writer's block. Couldn't get over this hump. x.x So this chapter turned out a little bit shorter than I originally intended, but I hate to be repetitive so I kept things simple.

Hope it's not too confusing this chapter. Lady's now officially Finwen, so it's nobody new. Just a reminder from last chapter. n_n

Thank you for the lovely comments! They make me soooo happy. They're almost as good as chocolate! =D

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**Chapter Fifteen :: Lord Denethor's Sons**

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I sat down, carefully observing my surroundings. Servers came waltzing in like there was no tomorrow and I started to wonder when they would stop bringing in food. Tray after tray came in and all were unmasked to display fruits, pastries, meats, and dishes I couldn't name all on silver. Even the plates matched this room…

I wonder what made him be so kind… After hearing countless tales about him, I was expecting a sentence this morning, not breakfast! But as he stared at me, I felt very self-conscious of myself.

"Go on, eat. Pick your favorite."

Nervous and nearly sick to my stomach, I had definitely lost my appetite now that it looked like he wanted to watch me eat first. I reached forward, doing my best to control the shaking of my hand, and thought a roll with butter looked safe. Things started to call to me though, asking me to try them. So I started to load my plate with pastries and delicacies that I didn't recognize but smelled good. All the while, the Lord Denethor watched me with interest.

_Strange… I wonder if people are ever reincarnated?_ Denethor watched as the girl before him took a tiny bite of apple strudel. Apples… If he wasn't mistaken (which he never is) that was Finduilas' favorite.

"So." Denethor quipped, shattering the silence. "How old did you say you were, Finwen?"

She quickly gulped down her food and coughed a bit before clearing her throat and saying: "I didn't, milord. I do not know my age."

"Ah, yes. You have… amnesia, correct? The loss of memory?"

She nodded.

"Terrible, simply terrible. Disappoints me to hear. You will not be able to tell me anything about yourself?"

Finwen thought for a moment, wracking her brains for something that a Steward would be interested to hear. "I like horses."

"Of course! One of the Rohirrim."

She nodded again.

Denethor started to absent-mindedly load his plate with everything that was within his reach as he spoke. Like clockwork.

"From what I have heard, you have met my son?"

"Your son?" Finwen swallowed again, politely attentive.

"Yes. Not long ago as I see it. In fact, I believe you met him in Ithilien?"

_Well, I met a lot of people in Ithilien…_ I thought bitterly. Was he expecting me to remember a certain face? A name? I heard tons of names! This was so frustrating…

I stared at my plate as I tried to focus. It was already so long ago… Let's see… Well, besides Faramir, I can't remember any names. I suppose his name is my best shot.

"Faramir, milord?"

"So you have met my son."

Oh… Oh! So he was higher up than I thought… Hm. Wish I treated him with more respect… Was I supposed to have bowed when I saw him? Too late now, I suppose…

"What did you think of him?" Lord Denethor asked a bit darkly.

"Very kind… Valiant… Smart." I rattled off adjectives, hoping I was making Faramir look good. I wouldn't want to dig him into a hole with his father or anything.

"Ah. And my other son? Have you met him in your travels?"

"I'm sorry, Lord Denethor. I did not know you had another son."

"He is Boromir, heir to my house."

The name didn't seem familiar to me, so I waited patiently.

"You have not come across him?"

I shook my head.

_So easy! So easy for her to lie. But something in her eyes is innocent. There is darkness and sorrow, yes, but she seems so ignorant. Could she simply be that good at lying?_ Denethor contemplated. It seemed uncertain. She was only a girl after all. But still… the lingering images in the palantir were glued firmly in his mind. Finduilas look alike or not, this girl was capable of killing his son. As ridiculous as it seemed…

"Well, think nothing of it." Denethor waved it off and took a bite of sausage. He could not get it past himself that this girl was not Finduilas. But someone who looked so much like her… Perhaps that was the trick of the Deceiver? To throw into his wake a young girl who purposely was meant to look like his late wife so he would be softer? Seems possible… But these notions are all so ridiculous! How could this young thing do any harm whatsoever?

As Denethor contemplated on whether or not it would be ethical to execute his breakfast guest, Sarah was feeling much more comfortable with the man. Perhaps he wasn't as scary as everyone made him out to be. Sure, there was a certain level of respect one had to keep to simply be in his presence, but wasn't that common with all 'royalty'?

Sarah cleaned up her plate like a good girl in silence as there were no more questions to answer. Denethor looked her over one more time and made his decision.

"This has been lovely, Finwen. I enjoy your company."

Surprised, the girl smiled and bowed her head to him. "It is an honor, Lord Denethor."

Smiling, Denethor began again: "Would you come back for supper?"

"I would be… honored, Lord Denethor." Sarah answered him. Denethor rose so Sarah quickly exited her chair also and bowed to him. Denethor nodded to her, giving her dismissal and Sarah was escorted from the room back to the Houses of Healing.

_So be it. I cannot trust this girl as of yet. I cannot be certain of anything in these times… But one thing I can do is to keep a sharp eye on her. I shall watch over her myself. Finwen will not leave my sight until I deem her innocent of threat to my heir._

Ioreth pounced on me like a cat the moment I said farewell to the warden of the houses.

"So how did things go, dear? You look all in one piece to me," She said in a rush, circling me for inspection.

I let out a small laugh. "It's alright, Ioreth! The Lord Denethor is quite kind. He offered me a delicious meal and simply asked if I could remember things like my name and age…"

"That's all?"

"Oh!" I shook my head, remembering. "He also asked if I knew his sons. Apparently, I met the Lord Faramir at one point… I wish I treated him more like royalty."

"Don't worry about that, dear. I'm sure you did what you could on the little knowledge you had." Ioreth comforted somewhat insultingly. "Anyway, the Lord Faramir may be the son of the Steward, but he is the youngest and isn't quick to take offence. He probably understood your position somewhat. No harm done."

No really knowing what to say to that, I simply nodded and Ioreth led me back to my room. As she was freeing me from the horrible nightmare of a corset, I remembered what the Steward requested.

"Ioreth? Is it odd to be invited to supper?" I asked.

"What? No, why ever would you think that?" Ioreth laughed.

"I'm just curious why people always get together at mealtimes. When I sit down to eat, I don't want to talk to anyone, I want to eat. So why invite others over to talk to? You never get to eat much at all."

"That's not exactly true." She argued a little lamely. The corset finally released with the last string undone and I let out a cough and took a deep breath. My rib cage felt sore, so I openly groaned. "Oh, you'll get used to it; it's not that bad… Now what about these questions about supper? Who invited you?"

"Why… the Steward. He said he wished that I come to supper with him."

Ioreth looked disturbed by this. "No reason?"

"No. I thought breakfast would be enough." I shrugged and took another breath of beautiful air.

"Hm…" She pondered and set my dress nicely in my wardrobe. She then helped me pull over a nice little frock that was just for the Houses. Not proper enough to wear in public, but it was styled for comfort when healing the sick and injured.

Ioreth started for the door but stopped. She hesitated, looking back at me a moment, and then waving a quick farewell before she shut the door behind her.

_I wonder what the trouble seems to be? Does she suspect something that I didn't see? Am I really all that dense?_

I walked over to the window, unlocked it, and leaned on the sill. I stared down at the street below me where a familiar man was out with his dog. A woman walked quickly by carrying a large bouquet of flowers and a small child in her free hand running to catch up with her pace. A couple of older boys dashed through the alleys laughing and yelling, playing some sort of game that got angry shouts from the people they ran into.

Looking out away from the street, I could see the sun poking through the thick onset of cloud that stretched across the expanse of sky. Towers and other buildings rose above my own room, so I stared up at them in wonder. How could people build all of this? It seemed impossible to me but here I was staring at it.

My eye caught some movement to the far left. A guard tower of sorts was positioned around my eye-level. A few guards dressed in black and silver were walking in the open pillared chamber, not doing much of anything, but I could tell they were talking by the way they faced each other. I started to watch them in interest. One man pulled out his sword, examining it, and started to play with the light that was flowing into the room and redirecting it around. One man sat and carved a piece of wood most likely, I could not tell from where I was, but he was hunched over with a small blade. The third man had food in his mouth and he was gesturing with his hands, making it obvious he was talking avidly about something or other. He took a large bite and the man redirecting the light with his sword shot the beam at the man eating, making him angry. Something was thrown, missing, and the three started to laugh.

Amused at the display, I continued to watch them. What were they supposed to be doing anyway? It simply looked like they were awaiting orders, but why position them there if there was nothing to do? Where they supposed to watch for something?

The man eating started to point my way and at first I did not catch what he was doing until it was too late. He had caught me staring at them. The other two turned around to face me at the same time I ducked into my room.

Awkward… Some silly child is staring at them… I sat on the floor underneath the window but couldn't help the tugging of my curiosity. What would happen if I showed my face? I looked up at the window and turned around, climbing back up to look out. I peered out suspiciously, warily looking their way. The man who pointed me out was staring at me, ready for me to make my appearance to prove to his unconvinced cohorts that he was not imagining me. The minute I stuck my head out into full view he quickly started to point again and grab the attention of the other two. All three turned to stare at me, somewhat surprised that I was staring back.

I decided to make the first move for once. I smiled wide and waved at them.

Waiting for a response, I continued to lean against the window sill. The man eating looked doubtful, but the man who was redirecting the light with his sword waved back and so did the whittler. They took me to be funny and started laughing. By now since they recognized me staring at them, they simply couldn't ignore me. I made silly faces at them and they continued to laugh.

"Lady, what are you doing?"

I practically fell from the window as I turned to face Ioreth.

"Nothing! I was simply getting a look outside."

Ioreth looked suspicious and hurried to the window. Without looking out, she shut the panes and locked it.

"Oh, please! I just wanted some air! I haven't been able to go to the gardens yet… I didn't think I was doing any harm…" I complained.

She sighed and gave my shoulder a pat. "After you have supper with the Steward, I will let you out to the gardens. Does that sound fair?"

I nodded to her, still a little embarrassed she caught me, and she hurried to the basket she brought in.

"What's that?" I asked curiously.

"Well, you are going to dine with the Steward, aren't you?"

"Not another dress!"

"Don't be silly." Ioreth rolled her eyes but grinned all the same. "No, these are the flowers you are going to bring for his table."

"We're going to eat them?"

"…Really, dear, you have no idea what etiquette is. Now hush up and help me arrange these—believe me, I'm doing you a favor."


	16. The Strange One

**Reminder:: **It's not mine… -sniffle- And neither is the awesome name 'Mordred', although I'm not sure if that belongs to anybody, really. It's from the Arthurian legends if anyone is interested. It's one of the many versions of the name that was given to Arthur's illegitimate son. Horribly cool, right?

Do not fret! I have not forgotten this story! n_n Truthfully, I like this story very much, but reading over it, I've realized how insanely _slow_ I've made this. This wasn't supposed to be a novel… So I'm speeding things up a couple of notches this chapter. I hope it doesn't crash and burn on me! Tell me how you guys like my change of pace. =3

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**Chapter Sixteen :: The Strange One**

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That night, I dined with the Steward Denethor again. Ioreth's suspicions melted away after I had come back 'home'. She was worried that something was wrong, but I didn't see the harm in a simple meal…

Again I ate with the Steward, and again and again and again. The only thing I found strange other than his apparent liking to me, was the kinds of questions he asked. At first, I was wary, but soon, I was answering all of his questions without being so completely vague. I told Denethor about Huan and Linius and Beleg. I purposely didn't use Pallando or Alatar's names when I was describing the camp I was at in the East in Rhun. What most interested Denethor was the field I woke up in. I felt there was something deeper in his questions – some sort of underlying suspicion. Don't ask me why, I'm just omniscient on occasion and I just felt it.

Soon, I was eating with him at least once a day. It became a strange sort of ritual. Every morning, Ioreth would wake me, I'd be strapped into a corset, ushered into the White Hall, eat, talk, and then go back to the Houses. What made today different was something rather simple: today I would be allowed to venture outdoors.

It took some string-pulling and Ioreth-bothering and even a little bit of begging, but before the winter would set in, Ioreth finally agreed to let me outside my room. She had to take it up with the Warden first, but he was very kind and easily allowed me access to the gardens.

It was late afternoon and I had already had dinner with Denethor. I was wearing my House frock and stepping out among the wilted plants. They were dying, feeling the beginning onset of winter, and falling asleep until muddy spring.

"No matter…" I said aloud to myself. At least I can be outside.

I spread my arms, letting the heavy wind rush through my sleeves. I giggled and ran up to the parapet. Throwing my arms across the top, I leaned over the side to stare out over the city. It was neat to see it from a different, lower angle.

Eventually, I grew bored. Was this really the garden? That's all that's here? Nothing to do and nothing else to see?

Feeling the kick start of rebellion, I mischievously looked around me, expecting Ioreth as a spy. I hurried to the door that led back into the Houses and pulled it open, shutting it as quietly as possible behind me.

_Click, click, click._

Someone was approaching at a lazy pace down the hall. Their shoes made odd sounds against the stone… I waited for them to approach, holding the door knob, pretending I was just about to enter the garden.

Huan came sulking around the corner, letting his tongue hang out. His long nails clicked against the cobblestone floor under him.

"Good to see it's just you." I scratched his head. His tail swung back and forth and he sneezed. "Bless you! Come on, let's get out of here. Sh…!"

He loyally trailed behind me as I crept around the corners. It was useless though because he was so loud. I eventually got the chance to make it to the front. The Warden wasn't sitting where he normally was when he had a moment's peace, so it wasn't difficult to simply walk out the front door.

"Aren't you glad this place isn't so heavily guarded?" I asked Huan with a smirk. "I think it's high time we paid Alatar a visit, what do you think?"

"I don't know – depends on who Alatar is."

I jumped out of my skin. Turning to the masculine voice, I saw a guard dressed in black and silver wearing a matching silver helm.

"Are… you going to arrest me?" I asked warily.

"Arrest you? What have you done wrong? Besides walking out of the Houses in only a nightgown, I don't see any other reason to take you to the dungeons." The man replied casually. He took off his helm to reveal dark, long hair brought back into a ponytail and glittering brown eyes.

"You!" I accused. "You're one of the guards from the tower – I think you were the one playing with a sword."

His brow furrowed. "Whatever it is I was doing in a guard tower at some point in time is none of your concern. Besides – I never 'play' with swords."

"No, I remember you." I said more definitely. "I remember you and another man who was whittling and some other man eating something…" My accusations sounded rather ridiculous and thin. "I was the girl in the window."

"Ah! I do recognize you now, young maiden." He laughed. "You're the strange one. Whatever you are in the Houses for must have affected your mind."

I glared but couldn't help but chuckle. "Whatever reason you care why I'm in the Houses is really none of your concern. But I do believe it would surprise you that the Lord and Steward Denethor takes an interest in me and we often sup together."

"Was that supposed to impress me?"

I un-crossed my arms and looked away, feeling a little embarrassed. "Of course not. Now leave me be."

"I'm afraid I cannot do that. No matter how poor you think the security is of the Houses, I assure you it's not as loose as you think. I'm afraid I must ask you to peacefully return to your room, lady."

"My name is not 'Lady'." I shook my head, denying my old, vague name. "And all I want to do is see my horse. I haven't heard tell of him in weeks."

"Your horse? You have a horse, do you?" He asked suspiciously, probably thinking I was intent on stealing one.

"Yes, I have a horse. He is black and he has a blue ribbon knit into his mane. Or at least he did when I got here. He'll recognize me if I could only see him – just for a moment."

"Oh? And where are the stables?" He tested.

"How should I know?" I argued a little testily.

"…I… don't see the harm in a simple escort to the stables. If you behave, I'll show you to your horse, but you must promise to return to the Houses immediately afterwards without argument and tell no one of this minor crime."

"Crime? My, I'm flattered!" I sarcastically curtsied. "But thank you. That would be very kind of you. And I promise."

The soldier, Huan, and I walked quickly through the streets to make it to a different level where the horses were kept. I passed people easily enough, but I got a few curious stares because of my strange attire. I was half ready to turn around, but Alatar would be just around the next corner or two. I could wait.

The stables were neat and tidy, but they didn't have the heart of the stables back in Rohan. They were stony and cold. Horses, and I for one, enjoy grass and dirt and places to stretch. There was plenty of room and pasture outside the city for them to roam, but not nearly enough grass and space in my opinion.

"So where is your horse, lady?" The man asked once inside the main causeway. I peered down the aisle where a couple of servants passed through with buckets of water and bales of hay for the animals. I looked into each stable, sometimes having to poke my head through the bars to get a good look, but I didn't see Alatar until one of the middle stables.

"Here he is!" I said. I ran up to the bars and stuck my arm through. Alatar trotted over warily, sniffing my open palm. He nibbled on it in a friendly way and I smiled, trying to stroke his nose through the stable door.

"He is a mighty horse." The soldier complimented.

"A fine steed indeed." I nodded with a grin. "May I enter the stall?"

A passing caretaker heard me and nodded. "He's a friendly beast – of course you can! But always be careful, little missy. Don't spook'em. You know how horses are." He instructed, rummaging through a ring of keys until he found the correct one and unlatched the door.

"Thank you so much, sir." I nodded, pulling open the door. Huan followed in after me with a happy grin, ready to see an old friend and familiar face. I walked inside a little slowly and gave Alatar my hand again to make sure he was calm. Soon I was stroking and petting him like we had never been apart. I was given a brush, and Alatar was shining in a few minutes time.

"Is this the ribbon you spoke of?" The soldier – who had left his helm and gloves outside the stable – reached into Alatar's matted mane. He pulled on the knotted fabric and I nodded.

"Is there a brush for his mane so that I can fix that? Would you mind?" I asked, thinking of the time issue.

"Here." He went to a hanging tool bag and took the wire brush out himself. Alatar was suspicious of the newcomer at first, but the feel of the tangles in his hair finally being released calmed him. With my help, the fabric was completely removed from his mane and all the hair straightened out before I put it back in.

"What is his name again?"

Hm… Perhaps he wouldn't know Alatar. I didn't see any haunting side effects, so I said: "Alatar."

"Alatar, hm?"

"Yes…" I nodded, a little uneasy.

"That's a fine name." He nodded with a smile, patting Alatar's back.

Phew. Cleared that mine field.

"I'm afraid it's time to return to the Houses." The soldier announced.

I lingered for a moment, gave Alatar a hug, and stepped out of the stable. Huan was disappointed to leave all the good smells of the stables, but he followed the two of us willingly enough and we were soon back to the Houses.

"I hope no one has noticed my absence…" I fussed a little outside of the door.

"At least you kept your word."

"And you kept yours." I pointed out. "Thank you again, good sir. What is your name?"

He found the question a little odd for some reason. Maybe it was a little sudden or something? He put on his thick gloves and answered: "Mordred son of Malathed."

"That's a strange name." I commented a little absent-mindedly.

"Well, what is your name, strange lady?" He countered, relating back to the funny faces I made at the window.

I shrugged and opened to the door. "What's the fun in that?"

I shut the door behind Huan and me, rid of the soldier Mordred. I was grateful to see that the Warden was not around. Quickly, I jogged down the hall and up the staircase to my room. Huan was bored with me and decided to roam elsewhere.

When I opened the door to my room, I found Ioreth putting a clean dress back into the wardrobe.

"Where have you been?" She asked. For some reason, even after I told her that Denethor had dubbed me 'Finwen' she did not want to use my name. I admit she did try it out at first though before she dropped it. She always talked to me in an indirect fashion. She talked in an indirect fashion to everybody.

"The gardens." I easily lied. "Remember?"

"Ah. Actually, I did forget. It's getting late, so I was expecting you to be back by now. Not much to see in the gardens this time of year." She commented dryly and closed the wardrobe.

I shrugged it off. "I am rather tired."

"Then get to bed, get to bed!" She shooed me until I was under the covers.

She picked up the remains of dirty dishes and unwashed clothes and walked briskly out the door. "Pleasant dreams."

"Pleasant dreams!" I called back to her. The door was shut and the lights went out.


	17. Trouble

**Reminder:: **-stares at watch- Nope, it's not mine yet. When I get to heaven and have a word with Tolkien, I'll let you guys know if he signs me away the rights to The Lord of the Rings franchise. As of now, I'm outta luck.

Please check my profile to participate in the poll I created there concerning Sarah's love interests. I can't decide… But I definitely want some romance to spice some things up. This chapter you'll see a little action and some promised romance. Rebellious. x3

colbub: Yes! So you know a little bit about the name Mordred, I see? =3 I'm obsessed with it though, so I wouldn't take it for granted that it means evil. Yet that is. I'm still a little undecided here and there. x3

Look out for a time skip during this chapter! To clear some things up, 'Finwen' met Denethor back in August or September maybe. The last chapter was set in October and now it's approaching late December. Yay for Yule Tide next chapter! =D

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**Chapter Seventeen :: Trouble**

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"Lord Denethor." The messenger bowed professionally and quickly rose.

The Steward put his napkin on his lap after wiping his grizzled chin and mouth. He didn't bother getting up from his seat at his supper table.

The messenger nervously eyed the guest, but Denethor cut him off. "Proceed."

"A… message, my lord. From Ithilien."

"And?"

The messenger related to his lord the recent happenings, increasing orc-slaughterings, and border controls. All the while, he was reluctant in front of the stranger at the dining table. When he was finished, he exited obediently without saying another word.

It's strange to think that he thought this girl was harmful at first… Not only did she look like Finduilas and share similar preferences, but she was a kind and relaxed girl. Level-headed. Not the smartest, but that can easily be attributed to her mental condition. Amnesia.

Denethor didn't bother shoveling food into his face quite yet, but was content to watch Finwen pick through her food gratefully with excellent manners. He had not seen the images in the palantir in so long, he was now sure it was someone else and most certainly not his Finwen. In fact, he had completely different plans for the girl than he originally intended…

"Finwen, did you pay attention? What do you think of the recent skirmishes in Ithilien and abroad?" He asked casually.

She slowly lowered the biscuit she was munching and wiped her mouth, thinking and carefully preparing an answer. "To me, my lord… It seems that… the East has grown in power?"

"Excellent! Very bright you are. Very bright indeed." Denethor smiled genially and let out a chuckle. Guards at the far end of the room exchanged glances, surprised that their surly overlord was so overcome with happiness whenever this strange prisoner of the Houses was about. She made him seem… nice.

"Thank you, my lord." Finwen bowed her head respectfully.

"The only fault with you…" Denethor boldly began. Finwen let her mind fleetingly think: _My faults? Start with your own…_ "You never seem to smile. Are you unhappy here? In the White Hall?"

Quickly stammering, she shook her head. "Oh, no, Lord Denethor. I'm very, very grateful – honored really, that you allow me so often into your… er… presence. I truly am."

His face softened and he patted the arm of her chair, closely situated at his right. Unwillingly on both parts, Denethor had turned her into a daughter of sorts. "Very good to hear! Wonderful! Finwen, do you happen to know what time of the year it is?"

She thought a moment. "December?"

"Winter." He nodded in agreement. "And the time of Yule is coming up."

"Oh, yes. I remember Yule Tide. Although, last I celebrated, it was with a small family of Rohan. I imagine things are done differently here." She recalled fondly her time spent with her broken family of horse tamers.

"Of course it is different." Denethor almost sounded offended. "I am sure you will be impressed not only with the food and decorations but the traditional songs and festivities. You simply must attend."

"Then…" She answered slowly. "It seems I'll be going."

"Good." He nodded firmly.

And that was the end of their conversation that day.

Ioreth greeted me at the door of the Houses in perhaps a cheerier mood than her usual cheery mood. "Hello, dear! How was supper with the _Steward_?" She emphasized the word.

"It was _lovely_." I mimicked her. "Really, Ioreth, you ask me every time I come home. Do you fancy him?"

"What? No, don't be ridiculous." She glowered sternly. "Now up to your room and clean yourself up."

"Are we going to collect herbs?"

"No, it's too chilly outside. Put on your woolens and work on the embroidery I taught you."

Grudgingly, I hiked up the stairs and walked down the hall to my 'cell'. I closed the door, and slumped into a chair. I wasn't sure how Ioreth expected me to take off the corset myself, but I suppose I could figure it out…

_Clink. Clink._

I looked around, wondering if I was hearing things. I shook my head, picking up the bag of embroidery materials that I loathed to no end. I had to admit, it passed the time, but it was so monotonous and frustrating. Whatever pattern I followed, I could never get it to look how I wanted it to.

_Clink, clink, clink!_

The multiple taps on the glass of my window told me I wasn't imagining the sounds from before. Another rock hit the window as I set down the sewing materials and walked over to unlatch the pane.

I poked my head warily out, instantly chilled by the frosty air. Winter had arrived late last week and already the city was in a cumbersome rut of cabin fever. Or at least I was.

I looked down at the street and saw three familiar guards. For the past couple of months, it had become regularity for me to keep to my room. I haven't argued with Ioreth solely for the possibility that my three strange friends might show their faces again. As of late, they have not been at their guard tower – the one which I so enjoyed to watch and mock them from afar. It was disappointing, but now that I was staring out my window down at a nearly empty street, I felt I had found my friends again. The tallest of them aimed as if to throw another rock at the window and I ducked.

"Fear not, crazy lady, we shall not assault you with stones!" Tristed called.

I laughed and peered back out the window.

The fattest of the three, and relatively the shortest by a couple inches, cupped his hands to his mouth and called: "Wilt thou let down thy hair of gold?"

"I'm afraid it isn't quite long enough!" I called back, understanding they were relating to an old fairytale. "Besides, I'm too innocent a girl to get mixed up with roguish men of your stature."

"Hear that, Benold? You are too short for the lady!" Mordred joked and gestured to the window. "Will she accept someone closer to my height?"

I shook my head and put a dramatic arm over my forehead. "I'm afraid, dear knight, that you are the worst of your comrades. I feel you are far too sarcastic for my tastes."

"And do you hear that, Mordred?" Benold replied, giving his friend a nudge.

"The lady feels something? By Thengel, it's a miracle! The Maiden of Steel has been vanquished by the whit of Master Mordred!" Tristed laughed.

The three talked amongst themselves for a moment and I took the opportunity to roll my eyes. They felt like… family somehow. Perhaps I relate too many people I meet to family, but for some reason, I felt that I had a family somewhere that was large, so I was used to feeling the comfort of family in many people… Or perhaps I've gone completely off my rocker – either or.

"Is the Lady of the Houses attending Yule Tide?" Mordred called up.

"Perhaps." I answered vaguely.

"Or perhaps she is locked up with madness and isn't allowed to attend." Tristed suggested with a smirk.

"Fine. I am attending. What of it?" I admitted.

Benold cupped his hands to his mouth again to call up to me, feeling it was necessary. "A lady cannot go unaccompanied!"

"She cannot? Why?" I asked, rather confused at the thought of going 'with' somebody. Should I ask Ioreth?

"It is traditional!" Tristed insisted. "And because Master Mordred, son of Malathed, is a blinking coward—"

"Will you attend Yule Tide with me, strange lady?" Mordred cut off his friend.

With him? What was that supposed to mean? I don't see any harm… "'Strange Lady'? My, how charming… But… If I am permitted to leave, I shall attend Yule Tide with you, good sir." I nodded my approval.

"What are you doing? Oh, get inside, get inside!" Ioreth was briskly walking into my room, already scolding me upon arrival. "And shut that window! It's freezing cold!"

I backed quickly away from the window and Ioreth peered out to see what I was looking at. Evidently, the soldiers were of no interest to her, and she slammed the window shut and locked it. She looked at my discarded embroidery on the floor and let out a huff of exasperation. "And you haven't gotten any further with your embroidery! Really, child, you're quite a mess."

"Ioreth, what is Yule Tide like in Gondor?" I asked, obediently sitting down in the chair and picking up the embroidery to keep her quiet while she poured out two bowls of hot soup.

"Oh… It's… festive." She shrugged with lack for a better word. "Why? I'm sure it's not as interesting as you expect."

"But the Lord Denethor wished for me to attend…" I mumbled closer to myself than actually telling her.

She picked up on what I said like a hawk and stared. "Now, isn't that nice? …He has certainly taken a liking to you."

"I know… I'm not sure why though."

Ioreth smiled and sipped her soup as I blew mine to cool it down. "You're awfully fortunate. The Steward doesn't seem to open up to just anybody. You have a higher honor than you could ever imagine."

Not knowing how to reply to that, I drank my soup until it was gone.

The Lord Denethor paced about the White Hall instead of his usual habit of melting into his throne. It was obvious he was thinking hard about something.

Should he wait until Boromir returns? It shouldn't be long now… He departed from Minas Tirith mid-July… The road north would be difficult, but Boromir must've arrived by at least October. Counsel would be taken and he should be well on his way home by now. Home with a mighty gift…

Troubled, Denethor thrummed his ringed fingers on his bearded chin. Perhaps his plan for pairing wasn't going to be a complete failure… Boromir, after all, would need a reward of some sort after his victorious return. What better gift could he, as a father, offer his eldest son but with a young and ready bride? It seemed a fantastic idea to Denethor, but what his son could think is a completely different story. What if he didn't desire a wife? Well… what of it? Boromir was more than of age. Past his age to marry! And heirs would be required. Heirs with Finduilas' bright eyes…

But enough of that. Finwen may have the look and manners, but does she have the grace and charm? He would soon find out at the Yule Tide celebrations… And as a 'test', if you will; Denethor will have Faramir escort her.


	18. The First Day of Yuletide

**Reminder:: **Using Tolkien's things again~!

Thank you for the three people who voted on my poll! n_n I love to hear reader's opinions because after all, this story is written for you. Good to know what you want out of it.

This is very strange writing this chapter considering it's somewhat Christmas-like. It's nearly June and Christmas is the last thing on my mind. xD Hope I got down what I wanted to at least and it's entertaining enough to read. Well, at least it was May when I started this. Now it's July! Dx This actually became so long that I decided to split it into six parts. One for each day of Yule. Yay!

And just to make a note: Yes, I know that Yuletide is a Shire holiday and in Rohan they celebrate midwinter as well but in a different way, but I am not sure of the way Gondor celebrates midwinter if they do at all. Therefore, in the name of creative justice, I have taken it upon myself to give the Shire holiday to Gondor. Hopefully I can make things work in a believable way. =)

EDIT:: I forgot my page dividers! Oh, how could I forsaken my dear, eye-saving lines? Well, it has been remedied. n_n Next chapter is in progress and should be up within the week if I keep it up. =3

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**Chapter Eighteen :: Merry Yuletide  
The First Day of Yuletide**

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"Up, up, up! Get up, you lazy girl!"

"Grah…"

"Do I have to pull the covers from you? I'll open the window and you'll catch cold…"

"Go away, Stephanie…"

"What are you talking about, child? Get out of bed. Finwen!"

My eyes flew open and I groggily sat up. I looked about the room, thoroughly confused and sure that I had a dream but not sure what it was at all. I could not remember.

"What did you say, dear? Was it a name?" Ioreth sat on the edge of my bed, looking on with interest. "Did you remember something?"

I shook my head. "I… rosemary. Is there any rosemary?"

Ioreth sighed. "I wish there was, dear, I wish there was. Sadly, you're not the only one in need of rosemary. Believe me; I haven't given up the search for the herb (such a common one, it's proved to be frustrating) for not only you have a need for it in the city. Apparently its tea is in high demand… Well! Today's the day!"

"Day? What day?" I rubbed my eyes.

Ioreth flung the curtain open and placed her hands on her hips. "Why, it's Yule Tide tomorrow! It's the only thing that you've been able to talk about for the last week and a half… By Nienna's tears… Really, child, I don't think you are as sickly as naturally forgetful."

I rolled my eyes and stood. Time for a bath.

* * *

Yule Tide, I soon learned, was an event that lasted six days. Ioreth described all the days as being the same: food, speeches, music, story-telling, and dancing. The last day was the most important though. The feast would be the largest and it was traditional to give gifts. I had no idea what I would do about the latter though…

"Well, since the Steward invited you, you simply must get something for him—"

"But what do I have to give?" I asked, feeling crest fallen. "I can't go if I don't have anything to give…"

"Normally, those who attend give gifts that relate personally to them…" Ioreth added, not making me feel much better. "But that's rarely done anymore and people simply give others new or homemade things... Oh, I know! Why don't you arrange flowers?"

"Flowers?" I sighed. "…If I have no other option, I suppose it's the best idea."

"Either that, or you could embroider—"

"So, what flowers should I use?"

* * *

By noon, I had made a few lovely bouquets using seasonal flowers. Ioreth and I went out to pick them fresh and then went back to the Houses to arrange them as we liked. We used Poinsettias, Crocus in the Snow, Amaryllis, Kaffir Lilies, Squill, and my personal favorite: Witch Hazel. The Crocus in the Snow and Witch Hazel added much needed, bright yellow to the mostly red mix of flowers we had and the lovely Squill added a touch of baby blue. With some green leaves from the plants, the arrangements were very lovely and I would be proud to give them away.

Ioreth looked over the bouquets we made and smiled. "So, which is going to whom? I think that one looks the best, so we'll be giving that to the Lord Denethor…" She quickly sided one away from the rest. There were still three more.

"This one will go to the Warden of the Houses." I put a second one aside.

"Two more, dear. Why did we make so many…?"

I shrugged. I adjusted the petals of one of the Kaffir Lilies and suddenly smiled. Satisfied with it, I moved it towards Ioreth. "And this one is for my good friend, Ioreth!"

"Oh! My… That's such a waste… I…" Flustered, she shifted her feet and fiddled with the petals of the flowers. "I… No, I couldn't… I'm not worth the time… I-"

"Please, Ioreth. I would like you to have one. Brighten up your room." I said. "You've been such a friend to me when I didn't deserve one – quite foreign to the city. I still am. I want you to know I am grateful for all the things you've done for me. You are like…" I thought for the particular word, hoping I was using it right. "Mother."

Gasping and clutching her heart, Ioreth teared up and gave me a tight hug. "What a dear! Oh, of course I'll accept it, lovely! Absolutely lovely!"

She let me go and still sniffled a bit, wiping at her eyes with her apron and fondly stroking her bouquet. "But what will you do with the last one? We can't exactly let it go to waste, now can we?"

I nodded in agreement and mulled it over. "What if… Ioreth, may I simply carry them around…? I could simply hand out flowers to those I speak to – until they run out. Is that improper?"

She seemed to think it odd at first and 'no' tempted her tongue for a few moments before she shook her head decisively. "I don't see the harm… Why not? Go ahead, dear. I think it's cute!"

'Cute' wasn't the word I was looking for, but I was glad all the same.

* * *

Nearing the time of the feast, Ioreth was busily finishing the touches on the dress she was making for me. It was a completely new dress but it was much more complex than usual. For every day of the festival, I would need a new dress. Every day. Good thing Ioreth started sewing early… But the task was too huge for even her to tackle, so I was doing quite a bit of work myself. I found the needle vexing and more than once, I pierced my thumb to bleed. In the end, Ioreth wrapped cloth around my war-wounded fingers and gave me the simplest of things to sew. I harnessed the main body together while she added details, decorations, did all the hemming, and fixed of all my mistakes. It was obvious she was much better at this.

A few herbalists and maid-servants local to the Houses of Healing snooped enough to find our task and purpose and found it more than intriguing. Women and girls crowded my little room and littered the hallways sewing my Yule Tide gowns under Ioreth's careful, inspecting eye. Everyone was ecstatic to have the chance to impress the Steward Denethor. It seemed to me that our quiet companionship was… Well, quiet. But apparently Ioreth had been doing some talking around. One young girl asked me if I was his illegitimate daughter! What has that woman been saying to provoke such foolish mockery? I hardly want to know.

But the extra help the girls afforded had my dresses ready or in the making. Not only were my dresses worked on, but girls showed up with their own supplies for their gowns to work with company. It was soon a party before the party. My first three dresses were soon finished - gorgeous creations leaning precariously in my wardrobe so as not to wrinkle. Eventually, Ioreth was so paranoid as to actually have girls hold them up until stands could be improvised about the room for them to keep them as fresh as possible. Yule Tide (and the Steward) seemed to be more important to these people than I thought.

My day four dress was just coming together under Ioreth's loud instruction when yet another interesting development took place. Upon the entrance of palace guards (who I was in no disappointment to discover were my good friends from my window sill) to my quarters, women all jumped and fussed that something was wrong and even insinuated that they were in need of protection. Trying not to laugh at the tomfoolery, Mordred did the honors of telling us personally from the Steward Denethor that he was recently informed of my 'living conditions' and he insisted that I be moved to a larger quarter but remain in the Houses until the return of my memory.

A rather kind gesture, but it caused more hassle than it was worth. Of course, there was the added excitement that I would get a larger room (happy happy joy joy) but the entire dress-making production had to be moved three floors up (Yay, I have more stairs to climb every day; I'm so privileged) and a bodice piece went missing in the process and it took another few, testy hours to find that it was brought up with everything else after all.

I was quite impressed with the room the longer I lingered. I had three windows now with billowing curtains and a terrace to step out to a small, railed balcony. My bed doubled in size and my wardrobe had plenty of safe room for the new dresses. I was given a looking-glass and even a new desk to write letters. Of course, I would have to find someone to write to first…

The women and girls who were so graciously helping me put on the finishing touches had no further need to litter the hallways and could all fit comfortably in my new room. After being fit and measured for the last time, I walked out on the balcony for a quick breath of air, taking my dreaded embroidery along with me that would soon decorate my fifth party dress.

I found that I would not be alone in the winter chill as a girl my junior rested in a wire chair, hemming away at some skirts. I casually walked out and looked down at the familiar alley, at this angle quite obscure to me. I could see the same stand and doorway where the man and his dog lingered and the alley where the children always played over to the left. I couldn't see their faces as clearly anymore and so I was a little disappointed my people watching wasn't going to be as interesting, but to my delight, I could clearly see the guard tower and it was much closer than it had been before now that I was slightly higher than it.

My short reveling over, I turned and drew another chair from close inside next to the fair haired girl. "May I sit beside you?"

"Lady Finwen? Why, of course!" She smiled sweetly and gave me the desired spot. I sat next to her and brought out my needle. I was still a little flustered that she had termed me as 'lady'.

I cleared my throat and voiced my trouble. "Why is it that you call me lady? I am no nobler than you, if not your inferior…"

"Oh, no." She shook her head. "It's true that my father is of the court, but he's no real power. My name is Taurwen, named after the forest which my mother so loves."

"See, you've said it now yourself!"

"On the contrary, my lady, I wouldn't dare. Anyone in the Steward's high regard is a queen among the courts!"

I posed the question I had been hesitating to ask to the girl. "Is there any reason he is called a steward? Is he not your king?"

Taurwen looked up sharply at me and shook her head. "Oh, no, he is not our king. Not at all."

"Then… doesn't Gondor have a king?"

"Yes… and no." She sighed. "It's rather complicated. I suppose you're lucky you asked me because many people are very… sensitive to the subject in the city… but I'm not the best informant you can find. Everyone knows that the king has long been lost and the steward holds the throne in his absence, but I honestly don't know much more than that. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize; I should. I'm sorry I brought up the subject… But thank you in any case. I would like to learn more about this city—"

"Taurwen? Where have you gone, child? I need those skirts!" Ioreth's shrill voice trilled out to us from my room.

"That's my cue." Taurwen smiled and rose. "Nice meeting you… formally that is."

"Likewise!" I smiled back and watched her leave. A few moments later, Ioreth came out to collect me. She grumbled how my work was slow so she took over and walked as she did so, leading me to try on the recently finished fifth dress.

* * *

The next morning, I woke up bright and early in my new room under my heavy blankets. Warm and unwilling to move, I laid in bed staring at the ceiling. When I thought Ioreth would come in and scold me, I swung my legs out of bed, nudging Huan in the process. He was enjoying the new found space and ignored me, grunting and rolling over as I left him behind to sleep. My bare feet touched the stone floor and I instantly recoiled from the icy touch. Slowly, I descended and hurried across the short distance to my slippers that I had left across the room. I threw a heavy shawl over my shoulders and carefully stepped out on the balcony.

Winter, as expected, was cold, but there was a chill in the air I could not place. I leaned against the cold railing and turned my head about so I could face the east. Dark clouds, darker than any thunderstorm I had ever seen, loomed high above the jagged mountain ranged. I could see my breath in the air and felt the same, very chill in my bones I had felt crossing the Brown Lands. So many eyes… staring… What were they looking for? Will they ever close?

I hugged my shoulders and rubbed, trying to ebb the cold away. A harsh wind blew, echoing throughout the city and I turned away.

* * *

Ioreth bade me farewell half a dozen times that morning and another two while walking down the stairs. She was still arranging the flowers in my hair when we were at the entrance to the houses. The girls who had helped me with my dresses the previous day were preparing themselves this morning for the celebrations beginning soon.

Waiting at the door felt like forever. I couldn't honestly remember if I told Ioreth that Mordred would be my escort or not, but I wasn't planning on spilling the beans now. What if she didn't approve? Besides_, it wasn't a big deal, right? What could possibly go wrong? Oh, wait… Bad things always happen to people who think that! Stop thinking that, Finwen, stop it! Think of something else! Yes! Um… Like… The curtains! No, that's silly… Oh, I wish Mordred would just get here soon so I can think about something else. What was I thinking about again? Why am I so ridiculously nervous?_

"You look lovely, dear." Ioreth stood back and observed me like an artist over a completed canvas. She dived forward one last time and adjusted a lock of my blonde hair and stepped back again. "Ah! There. Now give me a twirl."

I circled about, my long green dress wrapping about my ankles. There were brown embroidered vines winding throughout the dress' design on the forest green background and white and gold flowers sprung from the tips like cherry blossom. I had a red flower in my hair that was styled very little but for a braid that wrapped around like a headband. My hair was trimmed, but Ioreth said that although she thought I looked wild with my hair at my waist, she grew to like it in its own Rohirrim way. Pointedly, I reminded her that I was of Eorlingas to which she replied: "Yes, you certainly are. Stubborn as one in the very least. You must be."

I smirked and a rap on the door had me rushing like a child to open it. I hurried forward, touched my hair once more and unintentionally set my flower askew, and pulled the door open.

"Oh! Here as the escort to Lord Denethor?" Ioreth smiled at Mordred. He was dressed in his usual guard attire which was dashing, yes, but it confused me none the less. He saw my confusion in my obvious stare.

"Yes." Mordred nodded and bowed. He held out his arm to me and I slipped mine through. I waved to Ioreth who waved back to me and smiled. The door to the Houses of Healing closed and I briskly walked beside Mordred's strong pace.

"Are you on duty?"

"Yes, as sorry as I am to say it. If you haven't noticed, I've been promoted as a palace guard these recent months and I'm still adjusting to the new position."

"So you're not longer a guard to the tower?"

"Oh, yes, and it's the Citadel." He reminded politely.

"Well, a palace guard doesn't sound like much of a promotion to me… It sounds like longer hours, more work, and more hassle."

"But it is!" He insisted. "I mean a promotion. Not only am I an esteemed guard of the Citadel, but now I am also in care of the Steward's life. It is a very honorable position I am quite proud of."

I didn't quite know what to say after that, so we walked quietly for awhile as he led me through the city to the hall where the first day of Yule began. The first day would basically be a lot of noise, and the real celebrations would begin tomorrow. This was meeting and greeting and listening. That was alright though. I could do with some calm after the days of sewing I had to endure.

As we neared the great hall where villagers of all kinds were pouring in, Mordred gave my hand a pat and grinned. "I'm afraid this is as far as I can go with you."

"What? But where are Tristed and Benold? Surely you won't leave me alone?" I asked, feeling my stomach drop. If it was traditional to go to the celebrations with someone, the last thing I wanted to do was insult the tradition by entering alone.

"Of course not. But Tristed and Benold have escorts of their own. No, I must leave you with a very worthy escort, crazy lady." Mordred laughed though he looked disappointed.

"Why… who are you-?"

Mordred clicked his heels and formally bowed before us. To my astonishment, the man I had met in Ithilien: Faramir, stood before me at the entrance to the hall.

Taken off my guard, I hastily made a sloppy bow, too. The flower I had never fixed in my hair slipped out and landed at my feet. It was a deep red Amaryllis flower.

Faramir stooped, picked it up, and stared at it a moment. "You resemble my mother… But I can tell you are very different." Instead of being so bold as placing it back in my hair, he gently handed the flower back to me.

I smiled nervously and hastily wove the flower back in my braid. I bowed as Mordred had done (who was still at my side). "Thank you, Captain Faramir. I wish I knew her."

He nodded and Mordred bowed once more before silently leaving. So much for a goodbye.

"If you have not been informed, I have been given the honor of escorting you to the Yuletide celebrations throughout the week."

Knowingly, I pieced it together as much as I could. I was no fool. Faramir was a busy man and had no time for trifles like myself. He was not here willingly. "By order of your father. You have been recalled from Ithilien?"

Raising an amused eyebrow, Faramir gave his assent. "Yes. I normally do not participate in Yule, but I hope I prove to be not too dry of a companion. The music and lore that is told is the same, but it is comforting, bringing back memories of childhood and should be entertaining enough. I promise not to tether you – if you wish, I will not speak at all."

Shocked, I shook my head. "Oh, no! Heavens, I should be offering such a suggestion to _you_. I am but a simple country girl – nothing more. Your father has simply taken a liking to me because of reasons you pointed out upon our meeting here a moment ago. No, I have heard the stories. How could I escape them in such a city? I do not know the fate of his late wife, but know my grief is yours. I am quite honored that the Lord Denethor has thought me worthy to accompany his son let alone worthy of the generous comparison to his wife."

Faramir's bright eyes looked sad, but he bowed slightly and offered me his arm. I bowed in response and took his arm as I had Mordred's. Together we entered the hall that was decorated in brambles of all sorts. Well, at least they looked like weeds to me, but it was probably traditional to put such plants with berries and needles about the walls and ceilings. They hung like streamers and merry torches were lit to brighten the atmosphere and ward off the cold outside. Tables and rows of chairs were lined symmetrically across the floor where food had already been laid out for the first feast. The midday sun was slowly leaving as afternoon approached; pouring what little sun there was in the topmost windows casting dusty patches on the walls. Not a corner was shrouded with shadow and at the head of the procession stood a table that was faced horizontal to the rest at the end of the room. The table had chairs for the highest members of Minas Tirith and an empty throne stood in the center, never to be filled. To the right sat Denethor.

Faramir's pace was much slower than Mordred's so I was given the leisure to stare about me as we made our way to the front. With a sinking feeling that was soon followed by a wave of nausea, I realized that the two empty chairs next to Denethor subsequently would seat Faramir and then me. I would have to sit in front of all these people… A nobody without a name… Why did I have to come to this city? All this horrible attention. I'm beginning to hate it.

We reached the front and Faramir and I both bowed respectfully to Denethor. The Lord Denethor looked up at us and smiled pleasantly. He stood and said: "Simply lovely, Finwen. The flower is a nice touch."

I smiled up at him and rose with Faramir. I expected him to greet his son, but instead, he blissfully went on: ignoring him. "Take a seat next to me, Finwen. Yes, right up here."

I did as I was told, but I hesitated to take the seat immediately next to Denethor. I waited for Faramir to take the chair, but Denethor pulled the chair back for me to sit. A little perturbed, I sat and looked to Faramir who was now sitting down next to me. I strangely felt like a wall between them. Keeping peace.

Striking up conversation, Denethor enthusiastically tapped the arm of my chair. "This is where my son usually sits when he is home."

I was about to say something when he cut me off and continued. "But as Boromir is away from home, I give his seat to you, Finwen. When my son returns, I would like very much if you would meet him."

"I… would be honored, Lord Denethor." I nodded. "I'm sure that if the Lord Boromir is anything like his good brother Captain Faramir, I would be delighted to have his company."

Denethor frowned but it disappeared as quickly as it came. "Faramir? Hm… No, he's not like Faramir at all. But yes… Delighted. Very well then. Yes."

Taking a sip of wine, he suddenly turned and greeted another noble to arrive. I am sorry to say I paid little attention to the Prince of Dol Amroth, Imrahil, but at the moment I was less concerned with the now arriving guest than with the obscure way in which Denethor treated his son Faramir. I was obviously missing something but as an outsider looking in, I thought it was rather rude, even deceitful of Denethor to seem to care so little for his youngest.

I glanced at Faramir who was speaking with the man next to him at the table. He seemed to not notice that his father snubbed him. Looking harder though, I could tell he cared. Who wouldn't?

Soon Denethor rose, said a few words of greeting to the entire room, and bade us to feast. Throughout the meal, I couldn't help but look for Mordred among the guards stationed around the room. There were very few and the ones that I could see were immediately behind Denethor. Among the guests, there were too many to place Tristed or Benold either.

I chose my dishes carefully, favoring the sausages that were available, until Denethor laughingly scolded me. "Eat, Finwen, eat! This is a feast. You best hurry before the best dishes are gone." He laughed again and broke off another vine of grapes.

Something in my brain clicked… or was it more of a buzz? For a flash of a second, I saw a woman with blonde hair over… some sort of fire… no, that wasn't it… but there was heat and she was cooking something that smelled like the sausage on my fork. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I just knew it was something like what Denethor had just said. Suddenly her smile turned into a confused frown and her eyebrows grew larger and furrowed. Her skin aged and her hair became gray with touches of white. The blurred background faded and became the hall and the woman was clearly Denethor now. He was staring at me in confusion. "Finwen? What is the matter?"

"I… I—just…" I touched my temple and looked away, down at my plate. "I think I remembered something… but I don't know what it is."

Interested, Denethor prodded me further. "What did you see? Was it a person? Was it—"

"It was a woman. I do not know her face." I shook my head.

His glare relaxed and his posture became less stiff. "Oh… Well, that's always good news. Perhaps you'll remember yourself soon. Faramir, take Finwen away. She needs some air."

Faramir nodded silently and stood. I backed out of my chair and took his outstretched hand. Side by side, I walked out of the hall with Faramir out into the air. A very large balcony was here but it was empty because everyone else was still enjoying the feast I so rudely cut Faramir from. I leaned against the rail and stared out over the city. Faramir waited politely with his arms relaxed in front of him by the lighted entrance. It was already quite dark outside.

"It's so dark…" I commented, staring at the gloomy sky. "The sun is gone and clouds have moved in, but it cannot be long past sunset."

"The sun has not set yet, my lady." Faramir corrected, walking up from behind and standing next to the rail next to me. "The dark is spreading."

I saw in the east the smoke rising from the scary mountain range I so detested. "It was my first image of this world, waking in a field where dead leaves scattered on the wind and the high mountain range loomed above me. They seemed to always be above me, pounding me down with despair."

I had not realized I had voiced my thoughts aloud until Faramir responded. "You awoke in a field? Curious. I was under the impression that you were born of the Rohirrim. Eorlingas?"

Glad he got the name right, (something I took note to remember since Beleg and Linius took such offense to any other name) I smiled but shook my head. "I have no memories of this world. I will search for them though… I wonder if they are searching for me."

"I am sure they are." Faramir nodded.

"You are kind." I said absent-mindedly. "When I said I would meet your brother, I meant when I said that I hope he is like you."

He wasn't sure what to say to that, and I was being vague and my mind was strange, so I didn't mind. I had bothered him long enough anyways. "Please, if you wish to return to the feast, by all means, leave me be. I can handle myself." I insisted. "Besides, I should return to the table in a few moments."

"Then I will wait."

"…Thank you."

It grew quiet again. Well, obviously with me around, it wasn't going to last for long. "Why does the east have such a dreadful feel? Whenever I look that way, I feel my very heart fail."

"Great evil lies in the east. My mother felt the shadow as you do." Faramir explained, his eyes far off in that direction. "Unspeakable shadow in the realm of the Dark Lord… But his lands have stirred as of late. He is active again. His reach is stretching."

Surprised by the sudden blackness of his tone, I shivered and hugged my shoulders. "I feel eyes… Like I'm being watched. The whole city is watched. Is there no shield from the eyes?"

Faramir shook his head. "Come, no more talk of such things. It is a holiday."

I could not argue, but I felt that something had gone unanswered. I wished to ask him about my suspicions that something was wrong with Denethor, but that was far out of my own business. That would be intruding and that was the last thing I wished to do.

"How do you know these things? Who has the answers? I know I am ignorant and less worldly, but how do you know so much about such dark things? It frightens me."

He looked troubled but not offended at what sounded like an accusation. I thought furiously but could not think of an answer. Really though, how does he know these things? And he alludes that he knows more. What's going on in the world? Something that very few people actually understand… And I believe that Faramir is one of those people. Alatar and Pallando understood. "How I wish I could see them again…"

"Who do you speak of?"

"I said that aloud?" I asked, with a sarcastic grin. "Strange. I feel as if I can't say anything inside my head anymore. I speak of… friends. I knew when I first arrived. They were…"

"You don't believe you can trust me with their identity." Faramir guessed.

It sounded silly really. What harm could come from it? "They appeared as old men cloaked in blue. I met them in Rhûn."

"You know the blue wizards?" Faramir asked openly interested. "How did you come by them? They have been deemed long lost. Mithrandir must hear of this…"

The last sentence he said more to himself and I only barely caught it. "Alatar was the one to find me and bring me to a rebel camp. They were gathered to defy the powers of the East: or so I gathered. They were raided by orcs and I believed that I was the lone survivor." I glanced at Faramir who was mulling this over, chewing on the possibilities. "If you do not believe me, I have a piece of their cloaks. It is tied to my horse… I named him Alatar."

"And you have not seen the wizards since?"

"No."

Finally decided, Faramir nodded. "I was right in what I said when I had first met you. You have a very interesting tale to tell. I wish to hear it sometime, but I fear that today is not that day. It is growing quite late."

I agreed and we left the cold balcony. The feast was slowly winding down and groups were gathering to hear stories told. I was tired and quite ready to turn in. As the party closed for the evening for a few of the attendees, many stayed behind to watch the night rise. Faramir was kind enough to escort me back to the Houses where I said my farewell and thanks. He returned likewise and the first face I saw after I opened the door was Huan's, licking my hands and wagging his tail. He wasn't the only one happy to see me home.

"So how was it? Did you have fun, dear?" Ioreth bounced all around, following me up the stairs to my room.

"Yes, it was very nice." I lied. No, I didn't really have fun. I did a lot of talking about horribly dark things and only ate a few sausages. "But… I am glad I went."

"Of course you're glad you went!" She nearly laughed at me. "Now hop into bed, you've another day of impressing the Steward tomorrow."

I smiled and decided to confide in her. Gossip like this would keep her going for half the year. "Ioreth… May I tell you something?"

"Of course, dear. What is it?" She asked, hanging up my dress and pulling my night gown out. It was still my Houses of Healing garb, really bringing me back down to the reality of where I was.

"Well, I have a question first. What's an escort?"

"An escort? Well… What do you mean?"

"Literally, I mean." I repeated.

"Well, I don't know what you think it is, dear. I always thought it obvious. An escort is simply what it sounds like: someone who takes you to an event of some sort. Why? Did… Did the Steward Denethor set you up with an escort? Was he handsome?"

"Ioreth, calm yourself!" I laughed but was troubled all the same. "But yes…"

"He's handsome?"

"No, I mean yes he did set me up with an escort! Well, of course, he's handsome though. I would never call him otherwise."

"What's this? What aren't you telling me? Keep me in suspense much longer, dear, and I'm going to jump out of my skin!"

"Okay, okay!" I laughed again, harder this time. "It's curious… By order of the Lord Denethor, the Captain of Ithilien has been chosen as my Yuletide escort."

"Oh! Oh, dear, the Lord Faramir? Oh, how wonderful!" Ioreth clasped her hands. She quickly busied herself closing the windows and obtaining hot rocks for my cold bed while she cooed. "He really is handsome; I know I must've told you before. What a kind man! Oh, what a surprise! Dear me!"

"Ioreth, I thought an escort was just as it sounds! Why are you… scaring me?"

"Scaring? Pish posh, child, don't be so ignorant." Ioreth rolled her eyes. "Fine then, I might've not been very clear. An escort usually has romantic intentions. Oh, what a joy! I knew the Lord Denethor favored you. Now he's going to make a daughter of you!"

"What?" I nearly screamed and sat straight up in bed. "What? But I'm not twenty years old! I can't get married!"

Ioreth suddenly turned on me, serious as can be. "What did you say? What did you just say?"

I thought over the sentence and realized how easy it was. "I'm… I'm nineteen years old… Yes… I missed my birthday. Twice! I… I must've…"

"When is your birthday?"

"October the twenty-third." I easily answered. "My birthday is October the twenty-third! I remember, Ioreth, I remember!"

"Thank Vána and her stars!" Ioreth laughed, clapping again and giving me a hug. "With a revelation like this, I suspect it's only a short amount of time until you've remembered everything. Oh, how exciting! And how ridiculous! Nineteen and not married! You're mad if you think you need to be older to marry. You're of perfect age."

After a little more conversation and debate, Ioreth finally settled down (as did I) and finally turned in for the night. There was just one more thing weighing on my mind… who is Mithrandir?


	19. The Second Day of Yuletide

**Reminder:: **For Eru's sake, I still don't own any of this stuff if you recognize it. Curse this disclaimer! Dx

Well, it's a week later and here's the next chapter. I hope things are piecing together for you, if you can figure this out that is. My mind made this plotline pretty twisted up, so sorry if you're still confused. Faramir will lead you out of the dark soon. =3

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**Chapter Nineteen :: Merry Yuletide  
The Second Day of Yuletide**

* * *

Cheaply painted walls. Colorful posters. Hard, plastic seats. Sticky tables. Low quality food. I reached out, watching my own hand grab another fry, and suddenly turned to look around me.

There was a boy with spiked brown hair directly in front of me, facing my direction and sloppily eating a burger. Mustard dribbled down his chin and the girl next to him rolled her eyes and handed him a small white paper napkin. Her light hair screamed of inexpensive dye and her mascara told me she was never taught the proper way to apply it. Her cell phone was tightly clutched in her left hand, always open and receiving messages. She idly tapped the keyboard, barely watching as she threw her head back laughing at what the girl next to me said. This girl had a deep color of brown fashioned into a sloppy mop atop her head. Freckles were scattered on her nose along with a generous amount of eye make-up, much like the fake blonde's. She was shaking with laughter and her nose was crinkled and her eyes half-moons. She took a sip from the straw in front of her and looked in my direction. She smiled without braces and gave me a playful nudge.

All at once, I could hear sound at the once mute scene. Screeching, scratching, and cracking like I had never heard before. The sound only agonized metal and tree branches could make. A scream from a break pedal erupted as the teens at the table in the McDonald's restaurant carried on without noticing. Piercing cries rang; I could match each of the screams to the happy, laughing faces in front of me.

Warm tears spilled from my eyes, realizing these young people were all going to die. Die in fire and metal. Ashes to ashes; dust to dust. Dead and gone. So young… So young… They're so young… We're all so young…

I reached out to them, trying to touch their heated flesh. I needed to know they were alive. My hands passed through them as shadow. First the boy, then the blonde, then the brunette all went up in smoke before my eyes, laughing silently and enjoying each other's company. Petrified, I touched my own face. My blood was cold.

* * *

The strange dream I had haunted my memory. The second day of Yuletide, I was pacing around my room. The hot rocks Ioreth had warmed for me had grown cool in the night, but still had a bit of smolder left in them. It was too early in the morning for sunrise and my slippered feet paced back and forth like a caged lioness.

What could the dream mean? I honestly, did not remember these people, but I did at the same time. Like they were imaginary friends of mine when I was young… But their clothes! They were atrocious and the scenery didn't make any sense to me. They were eating food I did not know the names of and they were in a place far past my level of reasoning to be in. What had my mind imagined?

Perturbed, I strode out to the balcony and leaned out against the railing. The same, dark, dampening chill of the eastern clouds could be felt and even seen in the stillness of time before sunrise. Flames and curls of smoke rose from behind the foreboding mountains, beckoning me. Calling to me…

From the very depths of my consciousness, I listened in disbelief. The cold marble beneath my hands told me I was awake and the dreaming sleepiness had ceased quite some time ago. My heart stilled. The voice was real.

_Sarah… Sarah… Sarah…_

The deep whisper wracked my bones and sent a nasty chill up my spine, claiming whatever courage I ever had. With a cry that sounded more like a soft wail of despair, I quickly turned away from the outside world and hid within my room until light when Ioreth entered.

"Dear, child! You look ghastly." She commented upon her expected arrival, carrying a breakfast tray for the both of us.

I stopped stroking Huan for comfort hours ago, but he was still resting close by my side as I sat straight up in bed, my knees tucked close to my body. My eyes bored into the wardrobe in front of the bed, memorizing the woodwork and carving patterns, hearing the strange voice in my mind over and over again, trying to understand what all of this meant.

Ioreth's voice brought me somewhat to my senses and as I tried to remember the voice, I could no longer recall what it sounded like lest what it said to me. I was warmed by her presence as she stood before me and held my ice cold hand. She was saying words to me, but I could not hear her. I was too busy trying to recall what I had heard. Suddenly my fear of the voice became an obsessive need. I wanted to hear it again. I suddenly knew it said something important, but upon said realization, I could not remember what it was.

"Finwen! You're not well!" Finally broke through my barrier and I sharply turned my head to her. She was rubbing my wrists and quickly trying to prepare some food to be brought to me. "You shouldn't go out today – I'm sure everyone will understand."

"No." I shook my head slowly. I suddenly felt the urge to hide my thoughts and I forced a steady smile. "No, no, I'm alright, Ioreth. Thank you – I was just dreaming."

"With your waking eyes? No, you need to rest—"

"Please, Ioreth. I just… had a nightmare." _I think…_

Sitting down on my bed, she kept hold of my hand and asked with concern, furrowing her already wrinkled forehead with interest. "What was it, dear? Would you like to talk about it?"

"I'm fine. I think it had something to do with my past." I answered, trying to sound excited.

"Oh? Well, then do tell. I find that the more one tries to forget things, the more one forgets unintentionally. So? Let's hear it!"

I felt uncomfortable and decided to lie. I told Ioreth I remembered a house with horses, thoroughly describing Beleg and Linius' house in the process. She continued to nod and ask for more details, astonished at how much I remembered from my 'dream'. When I had finished describing the house, she looked surprised.

"That's it? Nothing else?"

"Yes. That was all." I nodded. To cover my tracks, I tacked on: "I was just so shocked at how much I could remember. So suddenly… First my birthday yesterday and now my home?"

"This is a wonderful sign!" Ioreth decided, standing and fixing her grey lopsided bun. With her brilliant blue eyes, she turned back to me after inspecting my wardrobe and brought out today's dress. "You keep dwelling – it'll do you good. But for the rest of us, in the meantime, put this on. You have a Steward to impress."

Glad she trusted my health enough to go, I nodded, gave Huan a pat, and hurried up from bed.

* * *

This day was much like the last. The only thing that seemed to change was the clothing and general appearance of the people. Everything else was the same: the food, the atmosphere, even some of the songs and stories. My dress was a dark brown with white skirts underneath and cuffs and collar. It was a very plain dress that I thought made me look like a burnt cookie, but Ioreth said she didn't know what a 'cookie' was supposed to be and shoved me out the door where the Lord Faramir was waiting to escort me this day. Once again disturbed at knowing something that was out of the ordinary but as simple as a cookie, I walked alongside Faramir as he was called about to meet and greet at Denethor's request.

I could feel the Lord Denethor's eyes on me wherever I went with Faramir. I curtsied and answered questions like a good girl as Faramir performed his regular prince-like duties and spoke with people of higher standing. It really wasn't all that bad, and more than once, a wife or daughter would make my acquaintance and keep me entertained while their male companion chatted away with mine. Halfway through the day's party, I was surprised to see Taurwen out of the corner of my eye. I watched her, trying to grab her attention, but she was wrapped up talking avidly with the person next to her. My eyes bulging from my head, I watched as her escort requested a dance and she and Tristed took to the floor. Well! Good for him! The tall one found a pretty girl. I'll have to tease him the next time I see him…

Realizing what I was teasing him for, I uncomfortably looked at my own escort. Was I supposed to make goo-goo eyes like little Taurwen was? How preposterous! Is this what Denethor set me up for in the first place? What an escort really meant? I discreetly looked behind me where the Steward was sitting and saw he was laughing raucously about something. His frown quickly returned though and he barked out something and a guard fled to carry out the order. No… It sounds so silly. I could hardly picture the man in the chair over there tearing into a leg of mutton to be a matchmaker for his son. Although, that sounded pretty sneaky… Very Denethor-like, in a strange, twisted way. I looked back at Faramir and couldn't piece it together. My thoughtful, contemplative stare was interrupted when I realized that someone was talking to me.

"Finwen? What say you?" Faramir asked.

"I… I…" I began, looking frantically from Faramir to the man in front of us. Only now did I realize that this was the Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. The man I had seen yesterday and so charmingly ignored with my own selfish thoughts. And here I was doing it again.

Reiterating, Prince Imrahil took no offense and asked: "I was given the opportunity of meeting your mount. Alatar is a very interesting name for a horse, might I intrude. If you ride him often, I recommend the fields of South Rammas and Harlond where there is much room to explore. Of course, I also recommend an escort if you plan to travel – never should a lady ride alone."

Rattled by the reminder of 'escort' I genially nodded and answered. "Alatar must be growing quite restless. I'm afraid I haven't taken him out in quite some time. I haven't been the best horse-master, have I?"

"As I have heard, you have been in the Houses of Healing, so all is understood. Are you feeling any better since you arrived?" He asked politely.

I nodded, only half-lying really, and said: "Yes. The people in the Houses and the city alike are very hospitable and kind."

"What a generous compliment." Faramir chuckled, almost with sarcasm.

"Taken with all due respect." Imrahil out-shined him in charm and smiled at me. "I hope for your speedy release."

"Taken with all due respect." I smiled back, curtsying as he nodded to the both of us and went off to make rounds of his own. Once he was out of earshot, I looked to Faramir shiftily. "Did I detect a hint of biting sarcasm?"

"You read me too well, Lady Finwen." He commented without emotion. "But I am also quite literate in faces. Something very dark is bothering you. Come, this way, please."

The please was completely unnecessary since I was required to do whatever he asked, but I took it gladly. Arm in arm, Faramir led me from the hall and finally deposited me on the same balcony from the day before. I stood stock still and waited as he went up to the railing and looked out.

"Aren't you going to join me?" He asked after a few moments. Feeling a little silly, I gave him a pointless nod that he couldn't see with his back turned and stood beside him.

Almost absent-mindedly, Faramir looked out over his city and commented: "You seem so uneducated in such simple things…"

Rather insulted, I frowned, but he continued: "It makes one wonder exactly what it was that happened to you so that you don't recall elementary etiquette. I feel as though it is my fault somehow—"

"Well, that's silly." I interjected, proving my lack of etiquette and leaned my elbows on the stone. "I don't see how you have anything to do with my personal, ridiculous issues, so I wouldn't worry my head about it if I were you."

"Ridiculous? Curious word."

Quite forwardly, I spoke up again: "Why do you always speak in riddles?"

Grinning for one of the first times I had seen, Faramir replied: "Must be Mithrandir speaking for me. I admit that I've associated with him more of late."

"Who is Mithrandir?"

"He is also known as Gandalf. He is one of the wizards who journey this land."

"How many wizards are there?"

"Apparently there are five now that could still be alive. The rest, if any, are lost in the ages."

"Who are the other two?"

Giving me a sideways glance, I instantly knew I was asking too many questions. I meekly apologized for bothering him, but he took it lightly and continued to educate me about what he knew of the wizards.

Faramir told me what he knew of Mithrandir and from the little he told me, I gathered he was very wise and knowledgeable about the world. He was cloaked in cloth of grey, somehow his appointed color, and he travelled mostly in the northern regions and lingered with Halflings, elves, and men alike. By the time he was finished, I was most excited to meet this wizard if I ever got the chance. Apparently, he had not seen Faramir for quite some time though and so my chances were slim. Faramir knew little of the other two wizards, only the names Saruman and Radagast. He knew no other name for them and knew not what to say on their behalf. All he could say was that Saruman was the white wizard, the appointed leader of the Wizard Council. I explained to him equally what I knew about Alatar and Pallando that I had not said yesterday, but it was disappointing I did not know enough that it would make it exciting to tell. He reminded me that I knew more than apparently anyone else, so that was more than the rest of Middle-Earth. I reluctantly agreed and asked him to tell me a little more about the Wizard Council which he didn't know much about anyways. It all seemed a bit over my head, but now that he had me talking fluently and asking and answering questions, he took advantage of the moment to counter attack.

"Now for the purpose of this out of doors visit." He began nonchalantly. "I'm afraid I am not as slow of a people reader as you think, Lady Finwen. What is it that is troubling your mind? You are not dwelling on the East are you?"

I shook my head quickly, feeling the tight bun atop my head and surrounding braid waver, but then nodded slowly. I looked in that direction and felt that same chill from the early hours this same day. Without even realizing what I was saying, I spoke freely to the Lord Faramir. "I feel so drawn… but all the same, I feel so cold. I feel as if the land holds my answers, but it also holds my doom. I cannot explain the icy stab I feel whenever I look in that area of the compass… How can a landscape affect me so?"

"My mother was weakened and in that hour of weakness, the black shadow entered her heart. She never recovered. I deem it unwise for you to think too deeply into these things, Finwen. It is more dangerous and harmful than you think. It does not do you good. If you are to remember the past, you are not to linger. How can you ever expect a reasonable future if you spend your present dreaming back?"

"You are very wise… And I trust your words." I pried my eyes away from the reddened sky to rest on Faramir's face. I smiled. "I am glad you are in my confidence."

Faramir nodded respectfully and waited for me to continue. I didn't know that I was going to continue, but his silence persuaded me to tell him about my dream, not the one I told Ioreth, but the one that frightened me. I described to him the people in the best way I could and how I knew they were all dead and how my own flesh was frozen. The sounds were hard to describe, but he seemed to get the gist of what I was trying to relay, and when I was finished, he thought for quite a long time without saying anything in response.

Finally, Faramir murmured from his statue-like position watching the city and surrounding fields: "I would like very much to hear your story, Finwen. It grows late yet again, but perhaps tomorrow you can tell me everything you remember from the point you met the blue wizards until the moment you arrived in Ithilien. Besides enlightening me to a few things, I feel that recalling these things will also help your own memory. You seem reluctant to share these things and I completely understand if you do not wish to speak to me of them. If anything, speak to Ioreth. She is good. Talking should do you good. Now! I'm afraid we must return to the abyss known as Yuletide. Will you accompany me?"

Letting out a laugh, I hooked arms with him and allowed him to lead me back inside.

* * *

Denethor's steady gaze did not falter as Finwen and Faramir travelled about the hall. She was doing quite a good job for someone so inexperienced. She seemed so flawless to Denethor. Not only was she beautiful in his eyes, but she was quite clever and she knew when to hold her tongue. It was rather refreshing. Quite a difference from the other candidates he had mulled over for Boromir. No, no one but Finwen would satisfy him for his son now.

"Where is the wine? Should there be any reason that my cup is not filled to the brim?" He asked rather harshly. An empty wine goblet always put him in a bad mood like so many other things in this irritating world. A nearby palace guard, one he had recently promoted to his service as he recalled, replied in the affirmative and went to carry out the deed of searching for more of the brew. Good lad.

The two in the Steward's attention exited the hall and Denethor was forced to remember other things. He had resorted back to using the palantir and did not like what he saw at all. He had not seen anything about Finwen and was quite glad. He was ready to let her off the hook long ago. Hell, he was saving her for his eldest son to marry! No, Finwen was quite out of the palantir. Other dark shapes took form, ravaging his city and devouring the courage of his men. The people quaked in fear under the rising armies of Mordor. Every time he would visit the palantir, Denethor would see more scenes of this horrible bloodshed – the massacre of the last establishment of Men in the West. And where was Rohan? Theoden has been too quiet these days of late… It not only worried Denethor, but it also irritated him. Like so many other things in this world. Except Finwen of course. She seemed to be the only one with sanity left. Odd how the girl with memory problems is the only sane one… Perhaps it makes her mind clearer. In any case, he rather missed her company. After this Yuletide business, he'll have to reacquaint with her in the White Hall. Those were good, long days. She listened to whatever it was he had to say… Did she suspect what he intended for her with Boromir? Most likely. She would have to be rather daft not to recognize it by now with all the boasting Denethor had done in these recent weeks…

Ah, his son! Returning home any day now. That's a reason to celebrate!

Looking around, Denethor's blissful smile faded. "Where is that bloody wine?"


	20. The Third Day of Yuletide

**Reminder:: **Nothing recognizable is mine. Everything belongs to the Tolkien estate. n_n

Phew, been awhile, eh? I wanted to make sure that this chapter was exactly as I wanted it so it's been through a couple rewrites. I hope I got down on paper what I wanted to project… It may not seem like much, but because I wrote the next chapter at the same time as this one, you might understand. =3

So sorry again for my tardiness. These next few chapters should come a bit quicker together, but they're quite a laborious, pivotal vocation, so I want to make sure I'm completely satisfied with them before I post them up for you to see.

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**Chapter Twenty :: Merry Yuletide  
The Third Day of Yuletide**

* * *

Blinding white light. Could I see? Was I blind? Was I… dead?

No, I was not dead. I could hear muffled voices and quick footsteps. I heard the squeak of an old, plastic wheel. I was flying… No. I was being… rolled. I was on a bed… with wheels?

Shouts, directions, soothing words in my ear. I felt the muscles around my eyes strain, prying themselves further open. I could not see anything but white light. I must've been blind.

But, no… The light was taking shape. Rapidly passing squares of light in the sky… Or was it a ceiling?

I reached up with my left arm, trying to catch the lights as they passed. My arm jerked back down suddenly and my world spun. I was being restrained.

Opening my mouth to scream, I couldn't hear my own protests and pained cries. No one… no one is there…

Alive.

* * *

I awoke from my sleep much the same as the night before. Shivering with the chill of my nightmare, I sat up in bed and kicked the coverlets from my icy skin. At least it was morning today.

When Ioreth came in to see me, I was already washed clean and ready for my dress. It's amazing what one can do when people aren't poking and prodding you and doing the mundane tasks themselves.

"Oh! You're up. Good, good! Excited today, are we? Can't believe it's the third day already! Well, really, I can—been the longest week of my life…"

Ioreth and two other girls helped me with my monstrous day three dress. It was a deep red with one too many skirts in my opinion. It was embroidered with an excess of patterned flowers and vines and was rather heavy. My hair was tightly wrapped behind my head and adorned with flowers I obviously couldn't see. When all was said and done, I had kept Faramir waiting a good half hour.

"And to think I awoke early this morning…" I grumbled as the Warden of the Houses handed me off to him. "I'm terribly sorry to keep you waiting like this. You're obligated to do enough — let alone wait for a silly girl with flowers stuck in her hair."

Faramir shook his head and gently smiled. "It wasn't long. You look lovely."

I felt myself turn crimson like my dress, but Faramir caught himself before he made my compliment. "Father will approve."

Nodding in agreement, I briskly walked with him and a small party of guards to the same feasting hall from the days before.

Instead of immediately walking inside, it seemed we were in a sort of routine already. Faramir bid the guards their leave and we went to the portico to the left where the chilly balcony perfect for conversation was.

I felt strange today. I felt like I was missing something very important or I had some bad news to tell a higher authority. It didn't take me long to realize the strange feeling was the urge to confide in someone. Someone like Faramir.

As discreetly as I could, I stole a glace sideways and looked the man up and down. He didn't seem the type to squeal a secret to his father or some other higher authority (if there was one above himself and Lord Denethor) if it was important enough, but he also didn't seem the type to laugh at me if I was being silly. In the little time that I had 'known' Faramir, I had deduced that he was wise, subtle, and caring. Yes. Faramir was an excellent choice for a confidant.

Before I could open my mouth, Faramir smiled. He had been reading me like an open book as I evaluated him and knew near exactly what I was about to say. "Something to say, Finwen? Secrets are often unwelcomed guests."

Eyes bugging a bit that I was that painfully predictable, I cleared my throat a bit and feigned disinterest. I shrugged and leaned against the rail. Making a point to be interested in a pair of rowdy children shouting and playing in the street, I began my elaborate tale. "Perhaps… It's really nothing of interest, but if you're interested in my memory, I'd like to confide in you what I know."

Raising his eyebrows a bit, Faramir made himself as comfortable as he could on a balcony in the middle of winter. "I'm listening."

That sentence was enough for me to work off of for the next hour. I rattled out my travels in a slightly disorganized manner and made a lengthy review from the point I woke up in the grass to how I had found his men while wandering through Ithilien like it was my business to make things clear. I spent too much time describing my fond memories of Linius and Beleg and too little time describing the men of the East and the types of orcs that raided both the camp and Beleg's horse ranch. I was a girl though, and quite frankly – new to this entire world still – so I was quite unaware of my misnomers and ambiguity.

All the while, Faramir kept a polite interest in my digressions. In fact, I felt it was much more than polite. He was actually listening and throwing out questions and making slight corrections and explanations when it came to time tables. "No, I remember my lieutenant picked you up in summer. It was still midsummer when you arrived in Minas Tirith." "You can't be serious? That long?" "Quite so."

I didn't relay to him the entirety of my nightmarish dreams, but I told him some about the images I did not recognize. Obviously, he could not help me as he did not recognize them either, but he warned not to dwell too much on them if they were frightening me. It could very well be some trick of the East — into which he refused to explain.

When I was near out of breath, Faramir made some quick observations while my story was still fresh in his mind. "I believe the largest blunder you've made, Finwen, is trying to forget these things. With all admittance, your tale is not near pleasant enough to relay to saddened housewives, but you mustn't push it from your mind. How do you expect to remember if you are so focused on forgetting?"

The wisdom didn't quite catch me off guard, as I was prepared with Faramir offering me advice, but I still felt it was blatantly obvious. Why hadn't I thought about it before? Of course it would make things hard to remember if I kept sifting thoughts in my mind into categories of 'strive to remember' and 'strive to forget'. If I had everything fresh in my mind at once, perhaps things wouldn't be such a bother—

_Come to… world… not seen,_

_Awaken, …from… dream._

…_life that could have been,_

_For this… chance to live again._

"My God…" I mumbled, the broken words flooding back through my mind. "I had forgotten them until now…"

"What is it, Finwen?"

Looking up at Faramir in slight shock and awe, I answered: "I think I've died..."

Before he could ask about this ridiculous sounding claim, Benold of all people, merrily stepped out onto the balcony and greeted us.

"My lord, Faramir." He stopped mid-step and bowed. Obviously, he wasn't expecting my companion to be someone of such importance. It made me feel fuzzy inside and I felt like laughing. Quite a different feeling to my recent realizations – I hoped it wasn't too obvious a swing in character for Faramir to take note of, but how couldn't he after what I just claimed? Dear, how I make things sticky…

"Benold! A happy Yuletide to you and yours." I smiled.

"A guard of the Citadel, I see." Faramir nodded, watching him rise. "You know each other?"

Sensing the question was directed at me, I decided to elaborate for him. "Yes. I happened to make his and two other's acquaintance while staring out my window. I'm afraid I made their job quite a hassle."

"Only because of the immature faces you threw us. Sticking out your tongue like you were but a young lass!" Benold teased and laughed.

I blushed, covering my face with one hand in embarrassment, and laughed it off. "What brings you here, Benold? Haven't you anyone to escort?"

Looking downcast at his feet, I immediately felt bad about bringing it up. He obviously came alone and was looking to me for company in someone he recognized. After all, Mordred had 'higher' duties to attend to, and Tristed had sweet Taurwen to eat up his time. Benold was alone this holiday.

With the most opportune timing, a great chorus of music, something rare in the city, burst from the feasting hall. Faramir looked on in lifting melancholy at the sweet stringed and woodwind sounds coming from within.

I had never heard such an accompaniment of sounds. I had heard men sing together in drunken bursts and a lonely flute Beleg might tune away with when he was relaxing after a day of work, but this magnitude was soul-touching. Real music that was created by a group of people with one purpose: to celebrate the last day of the year.

Looking to Benold – my apology was long ago drowned out by the music – I curtsied to him. "Benold, won't you teach me to dance? I'd be most honored to have you as my first partner."

Turning red, the plump man laughed, made half a dozen excuses not to, and finally took me by the hands and led me a few steps away. He tried his best to explain to me how to move my feet back and forth with him in time, but I found I had bitten off more than I could chew. I stepped on his feet, tripped over my own, and nearly fell on my rump. Faramir watched with probably the jolliest countenance I'd ever seen upon his face, and called out teasing instructions for my betterment.

"I think you may find it helpful if you didn't stand so still, Finwen. You didn't volunteer Benold to court along a statue!"

Trying to concentrate, I stared down at my feet and tried to memorize the movements. Benold was merciful and made things easier by teaching me a simple folk dance that didn't involve such twisted meanderings. Instead, we faced each from about a person's height in distance and wound back and forth in a figure eight. We'd add a different step each time – a spin or a quick turn or an extra hop – and we'd begin again. More dancers, who were more experienced in the art, perfected the figure eight routine and had the entire show down to a science. People spilled out of the feasting hall in pairs to line up alongside those who had gathered near Benold and me to partake in the traditional dance.

Dear Taurwen caught up with me and brought along her trusty Tristed soon enough. After our quick greeting in which we took a small break, Taurwen helped me learn a few new 'moves', per say, to add to the folk dance like the other people were doing. Dancing with Tristed as practice, I performed the figure eight again, winding back and forth with Tristed and a stranger who I would pass on the outskirts. I soon wasn't tripping over my giant skirts as terribly. Better yet, I found it much easier to dance if I wasn't staring at the floor. That might've been one of my early crutches…

The music trilled on and Taurwen soon took my place with Tristed. Benold had enough dancing, but he had found himself a new interest: wine. There was plenty and as Benold went off to refill his mug, I sought out Faramir at the rail.

My search wasn't necessary, as Faramir sought me out first. Handing me a glass of ale, I smiled and thanked him, taking a quick swig of the sweet brew. My heart pounding from the recent activity and it being too loud now to think with the merriment around us, I apologized a little lamely. "Sorry, my lord Faramir. I had never the intention of leaving you—"

"Never you mind." Faramir shook his head, sipping his own cup. "You must promise to explain on the day of the New Year."

Knowing what he meant, I nodded. We would have to continue our talk tomorrow, but as the musicians had ruined the quiet atmosphere, the rest of today would be for dancing and joy and things that were light in times of such bitter darkness.

"Would it be bold of me to ask you to a dance, my lord Faramir?" I timidly asked, trying to be brave.

Considering the request, Faramir eyed me over his glass. "That would be very bold of you… but it is an offer I cannot refuse."

For once feeling that something he couldn't refuse wasn't by his father's hand, I gained new confidence as he took the empty glass from me and set it aside. Faramir formally held out his hand to me and I took it after a curtsey, allowing him to lead me out onto the floor.

As a new dance was preparing to start, we lined up with the dozens of others who made it their business to dance as well. It was going to be the folk dance again – I was grateful because it was the only thing I knew and it seemed to be the only real dance the people here knew as well. Things of such bliss like dancing seemed lost to a people who had spent far too many generations fighting on the forefront of an endless war.

The dancers around us began to move, so I took the cue and moved in the figure eight. Meet Faramir in the middle, twirl, and retreat. Meet Faramir in the middle, twirl, hop, and retreat. Repeat with added spins and bows in between and we had ourselves a folk dance.

It was hard for Faramir not to look so serious, but I understood. There were too many things for him to worry about. Still, he kept a pleasant mask while he danced with me: a silly girl who laughed much too much and made one too many mistakes to be counted as someone proper and of good standing. For someone who shot orcs from near and far in the damp forests of Ithilien and the stone outcroppings of Osgiliath, Faramir pleasantly surprised me as an excellent dancer. It almost made me wonder what on Middle-Earth this man couldn't do. I would soon discover that one thing to be disobeying his father. Such a shame I would find out in such a way…

But the darkness crept in as the sun faded behind the clouds for the last time of the year. A new sun would rise tomorrow morning, really the same old sun, but it would be re-named under the New Year. The New Year is 3019 of the Third Age.


	21. The Fourth Day of Yuletide

**Reminder:: **Once again, I don't stand a chance of owning any of the recognizable items. All copyrighted to their respective owners.

A couple Hershey bars later and here's the next chapter! =D

I'm really excited to be writing regularly again. I re-worked a couple of old ideas, came up with a few new ones, and now I've got a timeline for the rest of this story planned out. And… I hope you guys are dedicated readers, because this is nowhere near finished. xD Quite frankly, I'm not sure if it's halfway over based on my last chapter count. ._.

I also went back and read all the reviews I ever got for this story, and I have to thank you all again. I felt like crying! xD You guys are way too nice. But come back please – don't hate me for being so tardy. Dx I update for you guys. Maybe two chapters back to back will give you guys new faith. n_n

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**Chapter Twenty-One :: Merry Yuletide  
The Fourth Day of Yuletide**

* * *

_And so it begins…_

The morning for me was like a fog. Ioreth helped me into my dress – I had to admit I liked this one much better because it was more streamline and simple – and I was actually early for once.

I sat on a stiff chair on my little balcony with a book, trying to make sense of the words. Beleg and Linius had taught me the basics of reading and writing, but I had to admit, I think I was a much better writer than a reader. Doesn't sound like it makes sense, but what I mean is that I am a very slow reader and the words sort of pass right through my head if I'm not saying them aloud. I often have to re-read a single sentence two or three times before I understand it.

Huan leaned against my leg as I stroked his soft head. He had lost his old dog smell somewhere in the course of Yuletide (a couple of girls in the Houses thought he was the bees' knees and decided to pamper him during the holiday) and he smelled fresh from all the regular bathing. I could tell the travelling had aged him; more so than when I had first met him last autumn. It was last autumn, wasn't it? Odd…

Closing my eyes, I tried to make a mental calendar of all the things that I had done since I could remember. So I awoke in fall… and I had only been with the resistance of Easterlings for a few weeks. I had met Beleg and Linius that same autumn and stayed in their home until the orc raid in summer… Then I travelled to Ithilien and, like Faramir said yesterday, I was brought to Minas Tirith before midsummer. I had sulked about the Houses of Healing then for nearly three seasons as spring is approaching soon. I have been here longer than anywhere else.

It didn't feel right to me. I had learned to ride a horse, cook, and even read when I had spent about three quarters of a year in Rohan. I had spent just a little bit more time in Gondor and what have I accomplished? Nothing! I have lounged about and learned to become a 'lady'. How ironic I've finally become a lady and I've dropped the name…

Looking into Huan's glossy eyes, I scratched his itchy ear and smiled down at him. "Do you miss them? Probably more than I could know…"

"What are you doing out there in the cold, child? Hurry, hurry! The wind's made a mess of your hair and it must be tamed before the Lord Faramir arrives. In, in, in!" Ioreth clucked, ushering me back inside.

"Ioreth, do you know how to read?" I asked, setting down the dry manuscript. It was some sort of plant guide so my boredom also had quite a bit to do with my incapability to read a sentence only once.

Huffing and rolling her eyes, she answered: "Never saw a reason to! Reading's for bored people who have the time to waste on papers."

"But this book should be helpful… It's about herbs and mixtures for—"

"Know everything I need to and it's all up here." Ioreth tapped her head. She set me down in a different chair and started tugging on my long strands of hair with a brush, replacing the yellow Witch Hazel that had gone askew. My dress rather looked like Witch Hazel. It was a deep, vibrant yellow with brown trim with long pointed sleeves and slim skirt. It was my favorite of the gowns so far.

"But aren't you ever curious to know more?" I insisted, poking through the book. Thinking of Linius' story of his mother Coniceth, I stopped on a particular page and held it up for Ioreth to see. "See, on this page it says things about herbs that help induce a healthy birth. This sort of thing could save lives!"

Swatting the book away, Ioreth held firm. "All the best remedies are all up here, Finwen." When she used the name given me by the Steward, I knew she meant business. I decided not to push the topic any further.

It wasn't needed as Ioreth finished with my hair and had me stand and twirl. "There… Lovely as a star… Dear, you've come so far since I first saw you dragged in. You were wearing men's clothes and covered in dirt! Didn't have a smidgeon of decent etiquette to your name either. Look what you've become! Lovelier than all the ladies of the courts and under the especial care of the Steward himself!"

"I wouldn't go as far to say that." I shook my head quickly. Glancing sideways in a mirror, I had to agree with her that I had certainly come far from what I first remembered. My hair wasn't as wild and I was wearing high priced clothing and I dined with nobility… But I couldn't help feeling caged.

"No…" I continued, losing myself a bit in my thoughts. "My movements are watched and I am forbidden from too many domesticities… I have come too far, indeed."

Her evident perplexity told me I was talking too much. I quickly smiled and hugged her. "Thank you so much for everything, Ioreth. I truly love you."

"Oh, dear…" Ioreth sniffled, biting her lip. She pushed me away after our hug and inspected my face. "A little peaked. Get some tea into you before you go. Wouldn't want you whiter than the halls."

Bustling around to fix the desired cup, I watched her for my attempts to help were silenced and shooed away. She handed me a steaming cup soon and I drank it obediently.

"You need some more meat on those bones! Too skinny, too skinny. Won't ever find a husband being that skinny – will think you can't cook and that's not desirable at all." Ioreth muttered to herself. I couldn't help but smirk. By that logic, Ioreth must've been a good cook.

It was high time we went to the main entrance, so Ioreth cleaned up my half-finished cup of tea and the breakfasting items and hurried down the stairs. I hurried after her, and because of the sudden excitement, Huan barked and loudly pushed past me going down the stairs.

Making quite a raucous by the time I reached the bottom, the Warden was unsure of what to do about a barking dog and Ioreth was loudly scolding him, matching him in volume with shrill reprimands. I hurried forward, but the door opened and Huan slipped out. I ran and nearly crashed into the Lord Faramir. He did not have his ensemble of guards today, so I didn't have to worry about too much of a show, but Huan continued barking and running down the street away from the Houses.

"Huan!" I called, but it was useless. I turned bashfully back to the Lord Faramir and apologized. "Seems you're greeted with a new adventure every day. I'm sorry about Huan – I'm not sure what's gotten into him."

"We shall find him before we attend Yule." Faramir kindly decided. I thanked him profusely, said good-bye to a flustered Warden and Ioreth, and ran most un-lady-like down the street after my old dog.

In good spirits this morning, Faramir hurried after me. At the corner of the street where the mazes of the city began, I called out Huan's name again.

"Hush a moment." Faramir ordered. I obeyed and watched him listen to the air. "Distant barking – this way."

Slightly amazed (although he was a Ranger of Ithilien; why did I forget?) I nodded and followed Faramir down the street. My shoes weren't made for jogging down cobblestones, so I lagged behind. I did my best to keep up with Faramir and he often halted so I could do so. Finally, he found Huan sniffing lazily at some Yuletide merchandise: a cart of spices and herbs of the season.

"Huan, how could you?" I scolded, holding onto the scruff of his neck. "Thank you so much, Lord Faramir. This is quite a ridiculous way of saying good morning…"

Panting slightly from the run, he agreed. "I have to admit, I have not before chased a dog as the first activity of the year. More exciting than my father's yearly tradition of lecture though. Invigorating in the least."

I was confident that Huan would follow us now that he had his run; I kept him close as we made the trek back to the Houses by giving him a pat every now and again to tell him I was watching just in case he got any ideas for more adventures though. It was silent for awhile as we simply walked the empty streets. Many of the people were in their homes or in the feasting hall celebrating. There were a good many who stayed home this day of Yuletide having drunk too much the night before as well.

When our breath was under control and we could talk freely again, Faramir brought up the first real question amongst the trivial observations. "If I heard you correctly, Lady Finwen, you said something very curious yesterday that you have yet to explain."

Nodding in agreement, it was a subject I longed to avoid. Secretly, I wished I had never said anything. For once, I felt I was right. I had discovered truth. But this was a truth that was too bizarre and surreal to… well, be truth. It was very complicated, but to make a long story short, I feared Faramir would think me mad if I told him. Might explain to him why I'm in the Houses to begin with…

And that was the last thing I wanted. Looking at him now, I felt deep down that I did not want this man to think ill of me. If all the people in the world were to hate me, I would not care as long as someone as honest and wonderful as Faramir thought me good. Did I just describe him as 'wonderful'? What a curious adjective I chose…

"I…" I began uneasily. How could I dig myself out of this? I didn't like keeping things from Faramir, either. This doesn't sound good at all… "I fear my past is lost to me forever."

"You remembered something." He stated simply.

"That obvious." The question came out more as a statement. I really was much too predictable. How stupid. "Before I awoke… I remember… you won't think me mad?"

"On what little information I have been given, it is hard to think you sane." He countered with a small inclination of a smile. "But I promise you my word to never mock you. Will you tell me what is on your mind?"

With a slight burst of confidence, I said: "There was a voice. Inside my head. It said that I… Well, basically, I was given the chance to start everything over again. I don't know what it means by that, but if I'm thinking logically… Well, did it insinuate that I died?"

Faramir did not know what to say to this. We arrived at the Houses at this moment, so our conversation was abruptly cut off as the door opened and Huan was accepted back inside. I had to persuade Ioreth not to beat the poor creature for his mischief, and Faramir's added insistence that there was no trouble at all gave Ioreth enough satisfaction to stay her hand. Huan retreated to my room and we said our fare wells once again and this time turned to the path that would lead us to the feasting hall.

Without missing a beat, as we were out of earshot, Faramir said: "I don't know what to make of your claim. Honestly, it is strange to me, but not impossible. I wish to consult someone wiser than me, but I fear the one I wish to confide in is not within the limits of the city."

"Gandalf?" I tried. Faramir nodded.

Gulping down my nerves, we entered the feasting hall. As Faramir went about his routine greeting people and inquiring into an infinite list of names of family members that I would dread to memorize as he, I practically shook with fear. It took all my will to force smiles and curtsies throughout the remainder of the morning. Obviously, the voice was a bad thing. What could be so important as to contact a wizard? Something was seriously wrong with me… And I felt sick to my stomach.

Sitting next to Denethor at the table once again, I barely ate anything. Slightly hung over from four days of straight drinking, the Steward barely noticed and only loaded my plate for me every once in awhile. I couldn't tell if he was missing his own or caring about my appetite anyways. He was a dear though, so I didn't say anything and just discreetly moved food away from my vicinity.

It was well past noon when I could not stand acting anymore. Standing up abruptly, I practically fell over my own chair muttering excuses about the privy and my clumsy flat-footed shoes. I could feel eyes on me as I quickly retreated from the feasting hall and found myself in a small room for bathroom purposes. It was quite empty and surprisingly clean.

Before I could take a deep breath, I was already shaking with tears. I found the wash basin and gave my face a good dosing in the cool water. A looking glass was hanging precariously on the wall near a chamber pot. My face was red and blotchy from my sudden break down. I attempted to rub the red away, but it would just take some calm breathing and time.

Leaning against the wall, I tried to steady myself. Why had everything been so hard from day one? There has been absolutely nothing easy in this world. Nothing to just 'click'. Nothing I was used to. Everything is new and strange and complicated and I wanted to go home.

But where is home? If I told Faramir the whole truth as I deduced, I would've said home was a different time, a different place, a different way of life. All the images I ever remembered from home were broken and strange to me. They were strange because I was trying to make them related to my life here. They wouldn't have been so strange if I never left…

I touched the cool floor with my hand and realized I had sat down at some point. One of the Witch Hazel flowers had fallen out of my hair and landed near my hand. I picked up the small, tubular flower and examined it. Something familiar… That's what I really longed for. Witch Hazel felt familiar. I could close my eyes and picture the small tree-like bush that it grew on. The buds would favor the cold winter over the spring and burst, giving color to a usually dull season of grays. In fact… I could remember the ugly Witch Hazel bush that looked constantly dead throughout the year right outside my house. It would rarely bloom in the winter time for lack of care, but when it did, it always made winter a little brighter. It gave a little boost to my mornings before I would walk down the street to the bus for school…

_Wait… what?_

* * *

The day was long and drawn out, but when I was finally back in my room I felt I could finally let go. I didn't bother taking the dress off – it was quite comfortable and I was content to wear it for a few more moments.

Sprawled out on my bed, I stared at the dark canopy and tried to remember the new words I thought of today while sitting in the bathroom.

_Street._ Alright… relatively familiar. But the one I thought of was definitely not cobblestone. It was smooth and long and flat.

_Bus. School._ Both seemed so alien to me, my mind wanted to tear them out because they caused me pain. Faramir meant well when he said I should try not to forget my past, but I was starting to like the past I had here in Middle-Earth better than the past I was supposed to remember. The former didn't give me such awful headaches.

Then again, Faramir always means well. He's always been so kind to me…

A sharp voice in my mind blatantly reminded me that Denethor was obviously planning to have me betrothed to his first son, the one I didn't even know. I bitterly ignored it and silently hoped Boromir was a lot like his younger brother. I wouldn't mind if he was exactly like him, really…

_Sarah… Sarah…_

What I had heard more than once before staring at the dark skies of the East was calling to me again. This time it was more audible than previous encounters and I couldn't help but rise and walk out onto my balcony to answer it.

_Sarah…_

The word was unfamiliar and I strained to hear it again. It didn't sound like a real word. Almost like a sound.

…_S…rah…_

Huan whimpered and circled my feet. He was obviously uncomfortable with something, but I could not sense the dark presence like he could. I was only human.

All at once, a vision in my mind flashed. A flaming eye, piercing land and flesh, made my stomach drop and my heart waver. A dark voice in my head breathed: "_Daughter of Eru Ilúvatar_."

I covered my ears in vain and stepped back. Flying to bed and throwing the covers over my head, not minding that Huan was now underneath with me too, I squished him tight and hoped the strange eye would leave me alone.

I would never be able to explain why, but I knew I would see that eye again. Deep in my heart, I knew… the Great Eye of Sauron knew more about me than I did.


	22. The Fifth Day of Yuletide

**Reminder:: **Tolkien's, Tolkien's, Tolkien's, Tolkien's, Tolkien's! Nothing you see before is claimed as mine~. Except for things you may not remember; but those things aren't good enough to rhyme…!

Forgive me for putting the disclaimer to the tune of _Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer_. I'm feeling a little silly today. xD

Expect a few new changes this chapter. Eee, this is so exciting – I feel like I'm finally getting somewhere I want to be!

As always, read and enjoy and review. Reviews help me out, but they also help you, too. This could be utter crap, for all I know, if I don't get your insight and opinions. Well, here's a chapter as promised. n_n'

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**Chapter Twenty-Two :: Merry Yuletide  
The Fifth Day of Yuletide**

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Faramir felt something was very… peculiar.

Of course, his old room he was standing in was a sight for sore eyes. It seemed very strange to him after being in and out of Minas Tirith for so long. He was so used to sleeping on rough cots with thin blankets. This bed was soft and the blankets were thick and warm. He was even impressed he had windows to shutter!

_But, no, that could not be it. _

Early morning and he had barely slept again. Even in such a comfortable atmosphere, Faramir was as restless as he was in the dark forests of ruin in Ithilien. Perhaps even more so, now that he came to thinking of it. His men were cold and hungry and leaderless. He would give up all the gold of kings for his troops to be as comfortably placed as he was. Then again, Faramir wasn't feeling very comfortable at all this morning. Perhaps they were better off…

Clenching his fists and searching for something to do, Faramir strode to the great wooden doors on the far side of the room and swung them open. Cold winter air rushed into the room and he stepped out to face it. Bare-handed, his fingers were instantly chilled when he gripped the rail of the large, stone outcropping. He could not face anywhere but East.

Everything in the world felt to be turned against him. How much longer could he keep up a convincing façade? There were two more days of Yuletide. That would be enough. And this was another day; another wooden face. He could pull it off. Faramir was quite good at it.

But then again…

Faramir had never felt so awful in all his life.

Well, of course, there were times he could probably recall if he tried, but these things are hard to come by when days are bitter like these. He could not honestly recall a worse holiday… other than the year he missed it entirely. And yet that was a very calm, uneventful winter. And peace is always something to be grateful for. Might've been the best Yule for all he knew.

So what then did he have? Too much idleness. He needed to do something helpful – use his hands. Lounging about all day at ridiculous galas and pacing the night away was such a waste. His men were in Ithilien still, more in Osgiliath that were in his care in his brother's stead, and they were waiting for the holiday to be over as well for their leader to return. They were out fending for their lives every day and here was Lord Faramir, Southern Ranger and First Lieutenant to his brother Captain Boromir, courting about some child in the city.

Inwardly grumbling for a moment, Faramir mentally danced around one of the many issues at hand to drive it from his mind. He didn't enjoy torturing himself with his own thoughts and whatever thoughts came to him as of late were convoluted. With a quick memory, he traced back the last time he had seen his brother.

_A mighty gift…_

Faramir felt his very spine crawl at the thought. He had been educated – he knew what his father wanted. But what his kin seemed to so conveniently forget is the nature of this 'gift'. If they thought they could wield it as their own, let alone use it against its creator, they were right out of their minds. Yes, Faramir should have gone to Rivendell. Boromir left midsummer, just before Finwen came to him, in fact. How ironic that if he stayed but a fortnight longer, he would have met his intended. Boromir did not need the burden of such a travel though… He had barely reclaimed Osgiliath before he was forced away. Faramir should have gone. He should have insisted upon it. The Council of the Wise had chosen Faramir – not Boromir – to go to Rivendell. Only at the insistence of the Steward they swayed their opinions and Boromir was practically forced out the door.

But after years of being passive, there would be no sudden change of character. No, he would remain loyal, meek and mild Faramir until the end of his days. And as long as it pleased his father, he wouldn't mind it so much. His father's wish was quite literally his command.

How exactly had it become Finwen's command as well? There certainly was an unearthly resemblance between she and his late mother, but what else could she possibly be of value to his father the Steward? As a wife for Boromir, she would be an ill-met prize indeed. He hated to think it, but Finwen was too fragile for a man like his brother. Boromir was a warrior through and through – one of the best at that. One thing Boromir was not, though, was gentle. Finwen was made mind and body of the thinnest of withering flower petals. Broken easily at a touch. Boromir needed a woman who was strong in body and spirit. Finwen was not this lady of kings.

Faramir was not so ignorant. He had seen her shaking like a leaf just the other day from just words he had spoken – words he should never had said since it affected her so. But how was he to know she would be so frightened at the idea of a wizard? Of course, he had heard her story by now, but what could be so bone-chillingly terrifying about someone like Gandalf the Grey? Did she not know he was of good heart?

Vexed even more now, Faramir sighed in exasperation. Dash it all – why does he always have to care?

And finally he was facing an emotion he had never felt. Anger. All his life, Faramir had been calm and calculated – he was not one to lose his temper. Had he ever?

But what was this one thing that so angered him now? Certainly it was not Boromir – he was the last person in the world to anger him. He had always loved his brother, followed in his footsteps, and had received his brother's love and protection in return. Faramir could not care more for a brother and friend. Boromir had few faults and he was strong. Not the quickest to the pen but quicker to the punch, Boromir was an excellent role-model for a young Faramir, growing up under a glowering father. Even though he was five years his senior, Boromir treated Faramir as an equal. Truly, Faramir could not ask for more.

Boromir had his father's favor. Boromir had the popularity. Boromir had the power. And never in his life had Faramir ever felt enmity towards him. These things happened outside of Boromir's control; he was not involved. He had the _right_ to be loved.

No, of course it was not his brother. The man he so yearned to please… was angering him. His father, the Lord Denethor, had never truly _liked_ him. But one does not necessarily have to like a person in order to love them; Faramir had seen it many times… and he had always hoped his father was the same.

Scapegoat for the death of his mother since he was five years, Faramir was used to the antagonism and every day he worked to reverse it. One day, Faramir would prove to his father his love and quality. One day soon, Denethor would recognize him for who he was: his son. One day… oh, someday. He mustn't dwell on dreams – they were always exaggerating what could be and creating disappointments out of miracles.

And the one time, the only time, this solid unwavering faithfulness had ever faltered is by the hand of a twiggy girl in her teens. Not only was it ridiculous, but it was uncouth and irritating. _That_ is what was peculiar. Negativity… It wasn't something he was particularly used to. He had been dark and perhaps a little suspicious before, but pessimism was not one of his traits. He was used to being a pawn, a spare, a lesser son, but he did not like seeing his father making pawns of other people – especially defenseless, confused girls like Finwen. She'd no idea what Denethor was capable of. Of course, she was not so shallow as to admit that she was clueless and had wisely seen the betrothal to Boromir long before it would be announced, but that is where she deemed it ended. The way she was under the Steward's thumb now would continue until one of the two expired. Although brought about in a strange form, Finwen was Denethor's newest slave. One he praised and fawned over like a master to his dog, but never as the lady he so called her. She was a tool… and it made Faramir wonder how long it would take before the tool became obsolete or broke and which would come first…

Pushing the negativity from his mind, Faramir left the balcony as the sun was now high enough to leave. His sister-to-be would be waiting.

* * *

Dutifully holding his post like a sentinel, Mordred relaxed his shoulders just the slightest and breathed out a sigh.

For five days, the Lord and Steward Denethor had been sending him on petty errands like he was a young lad. The shining promotion he had been so proud of now seemed dim and temporary – he would probably be demoted to his previous Citadel position by the end of Yule. He had served his purpose.

Of course, being a Guard of the Citadel was nothing to scoff at. There were many men in the city of Minas Tirith that would kill for his position. He was grateful. Truly, he was.

Mordred turned to face the entrance, watching the faces that passed through the tall archway. Into the hall stepped the Lord Faramir and the Lady Finwen. Well, she wasn't a 'lady' technically, but everyone referred to her as so. It got quite a disreputable sniff from many ladies of the court that an orphan girl like her should be given the title they worked their lives for, and they were angered rightfully so, but to harbor hatred for someone so tiny and pathetic as Finwen was hard to do even for the most accomplished cynical spinster. Besides, if you got her to favor you, you were given the approval of the Steward. So suddenly, Finwen had half a thousand 'best friends'. Everyone knew she was Denethor's favorite except for the obvious choice of his first-born son. No, nobody could beat out Boromir's chair. Oh, but would you look at that? There she goes to sit in Boromir's seat right now. Ironic.

She was wearing purple today. A very royal color – Mordred wondered where she could have found the fabric. Even at war, it's amazing that there is always someone to make the trivialities of the upper classes. Her hair was loose, tied only a little in the back, and adorned with winter flowers of red and purple. Whoever dressed her in the mornings sure knew what they were doing.

Smirking to himself, he examined the poor embroidery darkly laced against the smooth lavender of the dress. It was obvious to him she had done it herself – he had watched his sisters deftly work a needle for many years. He assumed she was required to, or at least wanted to try her hand at the art in the very least, but a dress for Yuletide was not a proper place to practice. There she goes again – the girl knows nothing of propriety.

And at times, that's what Mordred felt he liked the most about Finwen.

She was very pretty, in her own dainty way, but her silliness got the best of him. No woman he had ever met before introduced herself by waving at him from a window wearing her nightgown and making ugly faces to catch his attention and later continued for his amusement. She was different. She was… special somehow.

And there is the lesser son of the two, cavorting about like it's his business to steal her from him. That should have been him out there yesterday dancing with Finwen. It should be Mordred, not Faramir, speaking with her for countless hours on the balcony. He was the Lord Faramir, yes, but why should his father suddenly favor him now and give him his prize? Finwen, named for Finduilas, given to the spare? What is this?

Letting out a huff, Mordred straightened his posture, trying to feel his feet again in these uncomfortable boots. Apparently the Steward Denethor didn't even need him today. The errand boy was out of the job and left to dwell on skirts and poor needlework.

Today, the Lady Finwen did not leave the table. He was so sure that she and the Lord Faramir would 'escape' Yuletide again like routine, but this day she remained seated like stone. _She would make a lovely statuette_, Mordred thought absently to himself.

The Lord Faramir said something to her to which she did not immediately reply. Curiosity peaked, Mordred side-stepped a few paces as casually as he could and stepped away from the wall. If he strained his ears, he just might be able to hear their voices… He felt he deserved to know something about Finwen – after all, she originally would have gone to Yuletide with him and she would have told _him_ everything instead… Whatever that everything was, that is.

Finwen's voice was small, so it took all Mordred's focus to hear: "-no harm by what you said… You meant it as a comfort and I understand that now. I'm just… frightened."

"There is no need to be frightened, Finwen. You fear for things beyond you and your control. Be at peace. This is a holiday; I feel I must remind you." Lord Faramir offered in reply.

Finwen smiled (a little too wide for Mordred's liking) and said: "Thank you. You are a solace to me. I just have not dealt much with wizards… I do not know this Mithrandir as you. Are you… quite sure he needs to be involved?"

"Perfectly." The young lord nodded.

"May I ask a question?"

"Of course. I am not sure what answer I may offer you, but I shall be of use if it suits me."

Laughing, Finwen took a moment before she asked: "What is his name? Mithrandir or Gandalf? It is confusing to me."

"I have known him by Mithrandir, but often has he been referenced by his northern name of Gandalf. Either one; it is the same wizard."

Finwen nodded and delicately went back to her plate. The Lord Denethor made a loud comment at this moment and Finwen tried her best to settle him before he created too much of a disturbance.

_Hm… wizards? What in the world could they be talking about…? The affairs of wizards are often confusing and strange…_ Mordred did not know much about wizards at all. He certainly wanted to know more now. How was Finwen involved with—?

"Is it too much to ask for a fresh bottle?" Denethor fumed.

Oh. He was screaming about _his_ job. _Errand boy back in action_. Stepping forward quickly, Mordred bowed and clicked his heels. "Terribly sorry my lord—"

"Hurry up, now lad, I won't be kept waiting! Don't you know it's a holiday?" Denethor called after him as he unceremoniously left to open a new keg.


	23. The Sixth Day of Yuletide

**Reminder:: **Sorry to disappoint: I'm not the owner of The Lord of the Rings franchise. Would be very nice though… Alas, this is a fictional work for personal and public laughs and giggles.

Last day of Yuletide! I'm almost sad to see it end – not. xP Been writing about Christmas at all the wrong times of the year! Trying to embrace the warmth the weather is clinging to as it turns to autumn and I'm humming along to frosty air here. Icky! Can't wait to move on, so expect another speedy-ish update. =D Hey, life happens to us all, right? Been having one lately, so I've been a bit slower than I would have liked.

You'll notice that I mention a certain flower quite a bit in this chapter. I couldn't help it – it's one of my favorites. n_n'

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three :: Merry Yuletide  
The Sixth Day of Yuletide**

* * *

Huan had nearly knocked me from the bed this morning, stretching out and taking half of the blankets as well. I crawled out of the bed onto the floor and just laid there against the cold for a few minutes, not ready to start the day.

Eventually, I pried myself up and got to work scrubbing myself down. Hot water seemed to be hard to come by as of late, so I was forced to bathe in ice water. At least it wasn't actually frozen solid – so it must've been lukewarm at some point.

Wrapping myself in a thick robe, I shooed Huan out of bed and let him out my door. From there, he would probably take care of his business in the garden – the door was left open now because the Warden was sick of finding 'Huan' everywhere. I pulled the blankets tight and fluffed the pillow. My room looking like no one lived there; I decided that I had made it as clean as possible. That's one thing I wish I had – possessions. It felt like I was always taking and borrowing. It drove me mad.

Slippered and warm, I stepped out onto the balcony and watched the people in the streets far below walking down side streets and carting goods down the cobblestone path. Children hugged stuffed toys and wooden swords clanged against everything in sight (with an audible crash of porcelain every now and again). This was the day gifts were distributed. Odd, how easily I had forgotten… or is it?

Sick of interrogating myself, I peered around to the small tower of the Citadel. Shielding the early sun poking through the clouds from my eyes with a hand, I leaned and was disappointed to see that I had missed my guard friends yet again. I was half-expecting Benold in the least, but it was good they were on holiday. I should be happy for them.

While peering around the side of the balcony, I noticed a fluttering petal in the harsh breeze. A small white flower was growing on a dirty ledge, probably an off-shoot of the nearby gardens.

I walked as far along the balcony as I could go and leaned to see further. A whole patch of the flowers were growing just within arm's reach… Remembering my bouquets, I thought they might make a lovely addition. I reached out with my right hand and could not get near enough. Trying with my left arm, it was still to no avail. _Hm. No wonder. Arms are generally the same length, Finwen. Dolt._

Gently biting my lip, I took off my slippers and propped myself up on the railing. Straddling across, I attempted to reach the flowers again.

"Just… a bit…" _Closer… _I let out a huff in defeat as I drew away. Looking at the railing, I mentally positioned myself at a more precarious angle and determined it would work. Putting my plan into action, I threw my other leg across the rail. Holding on with my right hand behind me to the rail and standing just outside of it on the stone gingerbread, I reached out with my left hand again.

"FINWEN!"

Nearly falling to my death, I yelped and snagged a flower just before I let myself go. I whirled around and clung to the railing, petrified with my heart beating rapidly in my ears and stomach in my mouth.

"What _are_ you doing?" Ioreth fumed, hurrying to my aide.

"Just… flowers!" I breathed, holding up the small white flower I had managed to steal away.

Rolling her eyes, Ioreth helped bring me back over the railing onto safer ground. "Nearly gave me an attack, you did!"

"Tell me about it…" I muttered, holding my heart and walking briskly to the wash basin.

"And in your night robe, too! Does it ever occur to you that you are dressed indecently? You can't be seen cavorting about your balcony with naught but a robe on!"

Washing the slight trauma from my face, I patted down with a small towel and turned to face the old woman. She was tapping her foot, hands on her hips, steaming like an old vegetable. I couldn't help but smile at her comedic position. Her frown remained, wiping the smirk from my face.

"Ioreth…"

"Don't give me that. Silly flower… Silly girl!"

Feeling only the slightest bit ashamed, I murmured my apology. The subject was forthwith dropped until I held up the flower to her. "What's its name?"

Abruptly taking it from me, she examined the petals and leaves. "Oh, it's just a Camellia Sasanqua! What a stupidly common flower to risk your life for."

_What a fancy name for a common plant…_ Catching it before she dropped it to the floor, I defended my actions. "But does it grow only in high places? In certain soils?"

"Heavens, no! That weed grows anywhere dirt is." She quipped. "Now! Since you've managed to ruin the morning's atmosphere of surprise with your little balcony stunt, I shall now bestow upon you my Yuletide gift…"

"Oh, Ioreth, you shouldn't—"

Stepping out into the hall, she quickly re-entered with the most beautiful dress I had ever seen that shut me up quick. Blacker than night, the dress flowed long with a short train. The sleeves were long and narrow, ending at the wrist with a small triangle that hooked to the middle finger of each hand to keep it in place. The neck was heart-shaped with a tight corset (oh, my favorite), but the most glorious contrast to the black was the white and silver stitching throughout the piece. The White Tree of Gondor was elaborately embroidered to the bodice with a crown of seven stars. There was a star on each triangle at the wrist and white-silver thread bordered every edge.

I had no arguments putting on the dress today, even the corset was enough to handle if it meant I would fit into the dress. In fact, I did more thanking and hugging with an excess of happy, inane babble than any real talking all morning.

There was no room for flowers in my hair this day – instead, I would just wear my hair plain and down. I didn't think it did the dress justice, but Ioreth insisted there was nothing to be done with my hair. Together we left for the storage room where we kept the flower arrangements we had made on the first day to preserve them. We had to keep Huan away as he followed us down the steps because we soon found his fur clung to my dress like glue.

Looking over the arrangements, I stopped short. "Ioreth? I know I gave you one to keep as for the Warden as well, but there is only the one here. I remember two."

"Oh, the one for the Lord Denethor was sent off this morning. You're welcome." Ioreth waved it off, picking up the bouquet from its vase and drying the dripping stems.

"Oh…" Slightly disappointed, I kind of wanted to see his face when he received it. To know he liked it and was pleased. Oh, well; too late for that.

"Here you are! Ready, dear?" Ioreth looked me over.

"Oh! In a moment!" I nodded. Flowers in hand, cradled like a baby, I ran up the flights of stairs to my room. I had left the small Camellia Sasanqua on the dressing table. Tucking it safely into the rest of the buds and stems, I hurried back down the stairs, trying not to get the dress all sweaty and still be prompt. It's a rare combination.

Ioreth and the ever watchful Warden of the Houses were waiting by the front door as usual. Since it was still closed, I smiled. "Am I early for once since the first day?"

"It appears to be so." The old man smiled. The Warden cleared his throat and opened the door. "But alas, the Lord Faramir seems to have beaten you to the quick."

"Have you been waiting out there long?" I asked sadly.

"Not but a moment. The weather is excellent today, Lady Finwen. Come – and a Merry Yuletide to you and all those in the Houses." He addressed the Warden.

"Thank you, my lord. To you and yours as well."

"Oh! And Merry Yuletide, Lord Faramir." I found the Camellia Sasanqua in the mixture and stepped up to him. I quickly curtsied and held out the flower.

Slightly taken aback, Faramir accepted the flower. He examined it for a moment, looked as if he did not know what to do with it, and decided to simply hold it. Downcast, I realized that that would be the reaction I would see all day.

I could see at a glance that Ioreth was furious I gave the Steward's son her proclaimed weed. I liked it though, so I didn't really care. Actually, seeing her just the slightest bit irritable always seemed to cheer me up.

Faramir smiled at the gift and we soon left. Walking up the street, I realized he was still staring at it. Carefully, I said: "Does it mean something?"

'Snapping out of it' (as it were) Faramir gave me a questioning look. "What was that, my lady?"

"The flower – the Camellia Sasanqua, correct? Does it mean something in Gondor? Did I offer you my condolences or, or propose or something?"

Laughing, the Lord Faramir shook his head. "No, you misunderstand, fair Finwen. It is a lovely gift… Though I cannot think what to offer in return. I had completely misplaced this tradition of the holiday."

"Oh, is that all? Heavens; don't mind me. I'm just worried about following the rules. Besides, I've asked enough of you as of late – consider this minor gesture a sort of 'thank you' instead, if you must."

We arrived in the feasting hall to a terribly loud uproar. Trying to see through the crowd, I realized that this last day indeed was the most significant day of Yuletide. If I had thought the third day was rowdy, this was wild in comparison. People laughed hard and pints of alcohol were passed around out of doors. People danced to no music and ran into each other, eating food as they walked. Faramir carefully led me through the bustle to the inner feasting hall. Here the atmosphere was toned down a good notch. It was obvious this was the 'nobility' of the city. Sitting proper in their chairs being served their drinks and entrées in courses. The noise from outside was still apparent in here, but everything was much calmer. I couldn't help but notice the garland I had seen on the first day was browning with age and needles from the pines dropped every now and again on an unsuspecting party guest.

Looking around now, I felt rather disgusted. Were these people 'above' the celebration? I would much have rather been left outside with the commoners who knew how to have a good time.

Faramir seemed to read my thoughts by my face, a slightly annoying attribute of his: people reading, and said: "Sometimes I find it's more enjoyable to be at peace."

I honestly couldn't disagree, so I nodded and smiled. Walking up the aisles of tables, we stopped in front of Lord Denethor as we had done every day. One of the bouquets Ioreth and I had prepared was placed next to his plates of food. "Finwen! I have received your gift." He smiled, nodding to the vase.

I bowed ceremoniously and he continued: "And a lovely gift it is at that. I gladly accept. Bring forth the Lady Finwen's gift."

"B-but my lord…" I began, taken off guard as one of the guards (most likely Mordred) hurried to retrieve something. "My new room…?"

"A well-deserved but dull gift." Lord Denethor waved it away. The man returned (Mordred after all) with a small box. Denethor motioned with his hand to give it to me.

I nervously looked at Faramir whose face could tell me nothing. He released me from his side by taking a pace backwards and I took a few steps forward to meet Mordred.

With the helm over his face, I could barely tell it was him at all, minus the strong chin. Opening the box for me, I peered inside and let a small gasp escape my mouth. A thin silver chain held a bright star-shaped pendant with seven points.

I stared at it for a moment like a dumbfounded fool before I realized I was supposed to take it. Lifting it carefully, it seemed to glitter from the surrounding day and torch-light. "It's beautiful…"

"Specially made." Denethor boasted. "Put it on; let's see it. Help her."

Without needing a formal address but still knowing the order was directed at him, Faramir strode up from behind me and took the necklace. Holding the flowers, I couldn't do much. Faramir put the chain over my head as steadily as he could and with my extra hand, I freed my hair from underneath.

"A picture of beauty!" Denethor complimented as Faramir stepped back again. "The star of the White Tower. Lady of Minas Tirith."

Blushing madly with embarrassment – he said the last few sentences rather loud – I smiled to him, curtsied, and took my place at the table.

Feasting was the main priority of this day. It being the last, any food that had not satisfied before was simply gorged on this day. There was a strange sense of urgency because once tomorrow would come; the glassy bliss we had all entertained for these past six days would melt away under the shadow. The real world with its real dangers would suddenly return with the sunrise. Minas Tirith would be trapped in regularity again as if nothing had ever happened that was merry or bright. We would forget the happiness come the morrow. So soon…

I felt sad, poking at my food, but I came to realize that this happiness was being wasted on such despairing thoughts. So I encouraged myself to smile and laugh and soak in as much of the positive attitude that I so craved while I could. But only too late did I realize what the end of Yuletide would mean and my heart dropped.

If I had learned anything over the course of the holiday, I had found a steadfast friend in the Lord Faramir. He knew my story practically inside and out… Why had I never heard his? Feeling selfish and stupid, I let my face fall for a few moments as I soaked in the reality of my foolishness. I had a sudden desire to learn everything about him – right now while I still could. It was his turn to talk, and I wanted to listen.

After a hearty speech of welcome from Denethor, and a few mediocre ballads, I was given my chance. I had patiently waited and eaten my food and answered when spoken to for what felt like the entirety of the day, but was really but a few passing hours of the sun. It was nearly midday.

The urgency of the atmosphere felt mimicked in my own actions as I quickly turned to the Lord Faramir in a pause and said: "Would you mind if I had a word with you?"

Without saying anything, Faramir left his seat and helped me from mine. Arm in arm, we walked casually from the hall (I have to admit, I was trying to pace us quicker). Our balcony was rather crowded today, but when I was at a loss for what to do, Faramir continued to walk and I simply followed. He led me through and around the crowd to a much calmer plateau where two staircases joined together to reach a different level of the seven-tiered city.

Turning to me in a nonchalant way, he inclined his head and asked: "A word?"

"Honestly, I feel rather silly about all of this, but… All week I've been talking non-stop about myself. Won't you tell me something about yourself? Who are you? How did you grow up? How did you come to where you stand? I am fully aware I am being far too bold and radically brash for a girl my age, but I feel I… know nothing of who I thought was my closest friend."

Seemingly unsurprised at my rapid outburst, Faramir faced the open air and I stepped up beside him at the rail. "Attempting to remedy a guilty conscience?"

I knew the accusation was skin deep, so I took it so and shrugged it off. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I've… grown quite fond of you. And if you refuse to tell me anything about yourself, I demand you tell me something of the Lord Boromir in the least – although you would disappoint me." If he wasn't surprised at my candor, I certainly was. What was coming out of my mouth? Where was this confidence coming from?

"He is a fine man." Faramir began with a sideways smirk. "Boromir… is more than you could ever ask for. You should consider yourself fortunate."

Trying to read his face, I judged him to be partially sincere. He could tell I was waiting for him to continue though, so he took a deep breath.

"I'm afraid there isn't much to the man before you, Lady Finwen. A spare, my mother passed when I was a boy and I grew to follow in Boromir's steps. There are no secrets – no wild tales to tell."

"You don't do yourself justice. You cannot be as simple as that." I prompted. "Start here: 'One time in Ithilien when I was hunting orcs…'"

Chuckling, Faramir collected himself. "As you wish, Lady."

And to my amusement, he told me a story about a time when he found a rag-tag orc company marching through the ruined wood and how his men slew them all in a moment's time. For someone so 'simple', he really was quite a good storyteller. Faramir would throw himself back into the action as if he was there again, and he would experience the same emotions – of course nothing over done, but enough so I could feel it, too. He relayed to me the exciting details, but he kept in mind that I was a 'lady' and kept some things toned down. Even though I had seen war before, he disregarded the fact and treated me like an innocent who was only interested in adventure. He was such a gentleman.

I smiled and listened and asked questions and managed to wheedle out some of his own thoughts and circumstances amidst the action. For two or three hours (it felt at the most), he told me stories and I loved every minute of it. It was probably the most fun I had had from the entirety of Yuletide.

"—before, we could never have reached the vale before the Grey Wood without skirmish." Lord Faramir let out a sigh, allowing me to believe his tale was at an end.

I watched the setting sun for a moment before I too let out a sigh. "It saddens me to think I could have heard so much more all this time. I imagine you must return to Ithilien or Osgiliath soon?"

"At the closing ceremony." Faramir agreed. "Arrangements have been made to take a small company out to Osgiliath at sunrise."

"So soon?" I feigned surprise. I should have known he would leave immediately after Yuletide, but sunrise on the following morn seemed a bit ridiculous to me.

Before I could let him reply, a sudden thought struck me. Looking for a flaw, I quickly asked: "May I write to you? That is – when you leave? I'm going to miss not having anyone to talk to… You don't need to reply to me either if you don't want to. But may I? For the comfort?"

About to say yes, Faramir looked skeptical. "You would write frequently?"

"Of course! I could have your supplier carry my letters for you. It'll be great fun, I promise! Oh, please, Lord Faramir? I promise not to bother you too often."

Smiling softly, Faramir shook his head. "You cannot 'bother' me, Finwen."

Taking that as confirmation, I smiled wide and was about to give him a hug when I remembered that whole 'propriety' thing and controlled myself. Not knowing what to do, I bowed my head to him. I would have to learn from Ioreth how to write again (I was a bit rusty since Linius taught me) and I was sure she would tell me if I was using the proper etiquette when addressing someone like the Lord Faramir.

As if right on cue to cover my awkward excitement, a guard of the Citadel rounded the corner and saluted to Faramir. "My lord and lady. The Steward Denethor wishes to see you back in the hall immediately."

Short, sweet, and to the point; we did not argue and left the staircase. From standing around for so long without much movement, my legs felt wobbly and stiff as we walked briskly back. Nothing could bring me down though – I _finally_ had something to look forward to.

The moment we entered the feast hall, I saw that Denethor was standing rather askew. From the distance, I could tell he was tipsy bordering on drunk. Frowning to Faramir, I released myself from his arm and hurried up the aisle.

Denethor caught sight of me, and I had to admit – he looked happier than I had seen him in quite awhile. I knew Mordred shouldn't have opened that keg…

"And there she is! The lady of the hour!" Denethor introduced me in a loud voice. It was the same voice he used in his speeches, so the people celebrating immediately thought he was about to say something important. I rather wished they would go back to their loud buzzing hum of conversation. The near dead silence was much worse.

"Star of the White Tower – Lady Finwen! Come here, child, up here." He motioned me forward. My shoes were the only sound in the hall at the moment as I climbed the steps and bowed in front of Denethor at his supper table.

Spreading his arms wide, Denethor smiled down at me. "I would like to congratulate this young woman as she has my blessing. I am proud to soon call her a daughter of mine – betrothed to my eldest son, Boromir! Huzzah!"

What a dreadful way to announce such a thing.

Stopping dead in my tracks, my mind spun as the nobility grudgingly cheered and politely clapped. They knew I was a peasant girl and that was enough. Now I was to marry their highest ranking young man. Honestly, I was surprised that I hadn't been assassinated yet.

Somehow, I had managed to walk around the table and stand at Denethor's side. He leaned on the table, catching himself with one hand, before I intervened and caught his left arm. I lowered him into his seat as things slowly returned to normal. Everything felt as if it was in slow motion and there was a loud ringing in my ears. My face felt hot with embarrassment, but at the same time, I felt so numb to everything that was going on. All the meager suspicions I had, all those petty jokes were actually _real_. For some reason, it had never actually clicked in my mind what it meant to be engaged to someone I had never met before. Now it was official and staring me in the face. And I had no idea what to do.

Looking up for a face of comfort and familiarity, Faramir was no longer where I had left him at the door. He was gone.


	24. Day of Parting

**Reminder:: **What is Tolkien's is still and ever shall be Tolkien's.

Wow, it has been quite some time since I was last here. Apologies like this are rather empty and excuses don't really matter. All that matters really is that this chapter is finished and up for you to read!

Thank you for sticking with me. This adventure is not over yet!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four :: Day of Parting**

* * *

I stood patiently in the small crowd of horses and men. I held the cold silver about my neck somewhat too tightly. The points of the star dug into the chilled skin of my hands. Huan sniffed the ground at my feet.

Ioreth placed a hand on my shoulder in comfort. I did not turn to face her, but I used my spare hand to hold hers. For something that was rather a regular occurrence, I felt rather silly for treating this like such a big deal… I told myself last night I wouldn't cry.

The fourth of January and the Lord Faramir and his men were packing their things to leave. The holiday was over with what little happiness they could scrape together for their wives and families and now it was time to get back to work. Back to the rut and routine of deadly warfare.

Ioreth let me go and I stepped forward. A man with a large pack slung over his shoulder crossed my path and murmured an 'excuse me, Lady Finwen' and a horse nearby neighed as I passed. I paused a moment, taking in some extra cold breath, and approached Faramir.

Tightening the straps on his gauntlets, he caught sight of me and soothed his horse. It didn't really want to leave either.

I tried to speak, but my voice came out cracked. I cleared my throat and spoke over the wind whipping through the cobblestones. "May you have a safe journey… Lord Faramir."

There was a long pause as he continued to adjust random straps on his horse's saddle. A soldier wearing a bright silver helm came up to his captain and asked about supplies. Faramir directed his course and the man was off. All business.

"Osgiliath?" I ventured.

"First. Then I return to Ithilien." He explained shortly.

"I hope to see you before long… May I still write to you?"

The atmosphere becoming significantly warmer, Faramir smiled softly. "Of course, Finwen. I shall gladly accept your letters."

Happy to see a little of the old Faramir back (and secretly relieved that my suspicions seemed false) I nearly laughed with my smile. I wanted to say: 'I'm so glad you're not angry! I thought you somehow were blaming me for yesterday when your inebriated father said I would wed your brother.' Of course, I never dreamed of saying this out loud.

Faramir stared at me thoughtfully for a moment and said: "You find it so easy to smile. That is something to be admired, Finwen. Do not forget that… I hope my brother may make you so easily smile someday."

There was another awkward silence as I contemplated what Boromir looked like let alone his ability to make me smile. "I trust in your swift return." I stated to break the stillness, not wanting to pose it as a question of chance.

Faramir mounted his chestnut colored horse and nodded. "Look after Father. You are a fine sister, Finwen."

And without a promise to see me again or return safely, Faramir rounded his men together and the gate was opened for their departure.

Ioreth was on me in a moment, wanting to get me out of the way. She was muttering silly things like 'catch cold' and 'get trampled', but I barely heard her anyways. Huan had contented himself with sitting next to Ioreth's feet and it was quite a good show trying to get him to follow after me. He was being particularly lazy lately, but I figured that was a result of his mad run through town during Yule.

I was escorted away and Ioreth said waving was impolite so I did not. I looked back through the host of soldiers off to Osgiliath, but I could not possibly see Lord Faramir among them. Besides – he was probably at the front with his lieutenants anyways. I needn't worry about him. He's a fine leader. He will be alright.

* * *

Back in the Houses, everything felt very normal. Almost as if Yule had never happened at all. My room was completely vacated. Without the bustle and chatter that occurred during the holiday season, the vastness and clear emptiness of my abode stared me in the face. I walked around a few times, making little laps around the room, and tried to occupy myself with embroidery. That was a terrible idea. I thought about a nap, but I was much too restless. What could I do? How could I make myself useful?

I called for Ioreth, but she was much too busy at the moment to see me. I didn't mind so much – I realized she had plenty to do. The girl who came to answer my call was very young, so she was a little nervous. I volunteered my services in an attempt to aid Ioreth, but the girl insisted the old woman could handle herself. She wasn't a fan of others getting in her way either.

My second plan was to ask the girl if she knew how to write. She replied in the positive, and I confessed my need for a refresher course. She said she was not very good because she rarely had reason to write other than the labels on herbs and medicines and the rare prescription note, but she agreed to help me however she could. The girl never told me her name, but she sat with me for the next hour and taught me as much as she knew about proper writing etiquette and basic spelling.

When she left me alone, I had all the proper supplies to start writing. But… it had not even been a day. What was I supposed to write?

Still, I had the urge to write to Faramir as soon as possible – even if I would never send the letter and it was just to get some of my thoughts on paper… It would at least pass some of the time.

I dipped my quill in the foul smelling ink and flattened my parchment. I began to carefully scratch the letters, taking particular care to spell Faramir's name correctly. How embarrassing if I screwed up with that! Might as well put the quill down now…

_Lord Faramir,_

_I'm terribly sorry if I did not address you correctly. Please send me the proper heading and I can—_

What a way to start a letter! Well… it's true. Perhaps I'll just skip over that part and ask Ioreth later. Where's that other girl when I need her…?

_Lord Faramir,_

_It's been barely a day and I cannot find it in myself not to write to you. I—_

That was terribly worded! Again.

_Lord Faramir,_

_Minis Tirith—_

Spelled it wrong. Stupid! Good thing I have so much parchment…

_Lord Faramir,_

_Perhaps I'm being over-sentimental, but I feel I must write to you immediately. There have been no new developments since you left this morning – what a surprise! but I can assure you that all is well and at peace. Perhaps too peaceful. I find myself bored already. Whatever am I going to do without you around to make me smile?_

_Minas Tirith is hardly cheerful without you. I thought it may be the lack of music and festivities that just recently bombarded the city during Yuletide, but I have decided that it is the lack of company. I never knew I was this needy. I would not blame you in the least if you sent me a letter in return asking me to stop writing before the next is sent. I promise all my letters will not be like this. That is, of course, if something exciting would happen. Shall I cause some mischief? I might succeed to excite some hysteria in poor Ioreth in the least._

_The clouds are looming once again out my window and I cannot forget you are travelling in their direction. When you receive this (if I decide to actually send this trivial piece) you will already be in Osgiliath. Perhaps Ithilien! Tell me about the waterfalls there if you have the time. I barely saw them once, and I have heard that a certain fall sparkles in hues of all the gems in the earth. If only I could see it! Perhaps I could be of more help in Ithilien than I am here. Are you in need of a nurse? A maid? Ioreth may strangle me if she ever read this. I can hear her now telling me how un-ladylike I am. I have so much to learn._

_Stay safe and kill many orcs. I love to hear tell of their destruction – in a completely acceptable lady-like fashion of course._

_Finwen_

I looked over the letter once, twice, re-wrote the entire thing in my neatest handwriting, and stuffed it in the drawer of my writing table. It would probably never see the light of day again.

I let out a sigh and looked out over the balcony. The wind picked up again and howled through the thick curtains, blowing them back and whipping them about the walls.

It felt… cold.


	25. Shadow in the Houses

**Reminder:: **I do not own anything. Except Finwen. I might claim her yet. =3

So I'm still trying to squeeze in thirty chapters before Christmas. If I can, I think I'm a hero. xD Although I highly doubt it, I'm going to at least try. I want to keep the quality though, so if comes to a crunch, than I'd rather pass my deadline than throw out a bunch of crap. Capiche? =3

Warning! This chapter's weird! In time, you'll see that it's necessary, though, so bear through the drama llamas. x3

Let's see how good you are at interpreting dreams~.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Five :: Shadow in the Houses**

* * *

A woman is leaning over me. Her face is kind, but it is worn from years of motherhood. Right now, her eyes are frantic, but reassuring. This woman is a symbol of hope and comfort and hurt.

Her long blonde hair tickles my nose and I twitch. I cannot reach up to push her hair away. It's starting to bother me. My arm feels like a rock, so I try to move my head away instead. I cannot move my neck.

I start to cry from the frustration. I scrunch my nose and the woman recognizes the reaction. Absent mindedly pushing her hair back behind her ear, she smiles and tears spill out from her eyes. She starts yelling, but it's so hard to hear… There's just a steady thrum in my mind. White lights blind me for an instant and I squirm to get away, not remembering that I can close my eyes. All I know is that my nose still itches.

The scene changes, but my body is still unresponsive. Now I am lying flat on my back staring at a cloudy sky. The numbness is starting to wear away and I sit up and look around. The first thing I do is scratch my nose, and then I see that the land around me is very plain. Long over the horizon is a dark line, probably a forest? I cannot see anything of worth.

The ground underneath me pounds. Only now do I realize I'm wearing a plain white dress and it's very cold. I have no sleeves, so I hug my arms. I stand and look to the West where a large, steady line of creatures are racing towards my location. I can tell they are on horseback.

I wait impatiently for them to arrive as I shiver in the freezing wind that has picked up. My hair whips around my face and I feel like cutting it off – it's annoying me. The horsemen approach and their armor is clear to me first: they all bear the White Tree. Gondor. These are friends.

The riders are close enough for me to hear and see them clearly and be slightly afraid they will not stop. They are determined. Spears are out and aimed straight ahead of the line. They do not see me.

I shout to them, but it is too late. They cannot hear me. They will surely over take me. I am done.

A group of orcs have been approaching from the East unbeknownst to me. I was so concerned with the soldiers, I had not seen them coming at me from behind. I turn around just as the two armies collide with me in the middle.

I stand stupidly for awhile before I decide I need to get out of the way. Men are thrown from their horses and orcs are skewered on long spears of wood. I have suddenly gone deaf, for I cannot hear the clashing metal or the screams and howls of pain. I duck miraculously out of the way of a runaway sword stroke and effortlessly dodge a thrown spear. This battle is not mine. Therefore, I am not involved. I simply walk through the warfare and exit the battlefield without a scratch. No one has seen me or cares. Again, this is not my war.

Suddenly, I can recognize Faramir. He is riding a staggering horse far from the battle. The horse suddenly collapses and Faramir goes down with it. The horse is obviously dead: it has been run to death. Faramir lies on the ground, looking the same way. He does not have armor. Why does he not have armor like all the other men? Where is his sword? All he has is a heavy tunic and chainmail, weighing him to the ground, with the White Tree mockingly sewn onto the front.

I start to run to him. I have to help! The dead grass beneath my feet becomes faster and soon I realize I am not running faster, but the ground is. Faramir is getting farther and farther away, and I cannot reach him in time. He's going to die! He's going to die!

There is fire now and it forces me to stop running. I fall to the ground, coughing from the smoke that is engulfing me. I hear wedding bells tolling, but now I am sure they are for a funeral. They must be for my funeral.

I must leave. I must escape. All of this is too horrible. In my mind, I know if I run, I am not going to change anything, but my heart wants to flee. These images are terrifying and I do not want to see them anymore. I want to start over again. A new house. A new life. A new world…

* * *

Mordred was staring at his sword again. He loves it a little too dearly, some may say, but really, he could not imagine using it. Sure, ever since he was a boy, Mordred had dreamed of slaying fictitious orcs in the streets with his wooden replica, but this was so different. Now he may have to. If the war ever comes home.

"Mordred, are you listening? God, man, put that bloody sword away. You treat it kinder than a woman!" Benold teased, slapping Mordred on the shoulder. He walked nonchalantly over to a stool across the room where Tristed stood staring out the window. They were on duty again in one of the many towers, filling in the routine.

Benold cleared his throat and let out a cough for good measure. Breaking the silence the other two men created, he laughed. "Mordred! Toss me some of that leftover bread from Yule."

Without a word, Mordred tossed the bag over to his friend. Benold dug through it and chose a small roll. He observed it, testing its freshness by squeezing and prodding it. He finally bit into it and wrinkled his nose. "Hard." He said between bites. "Wouldn't hurt anyone if we could get some fresh bread, eh?"

"Only those who have left with all of it." Tristed replied. "Enjoy your sour bread, good friend. I think they'll need it more than us."

Benold nodded. They all secretly wished they could be one of the men in Captain Faramir's company, but the city needed to be guarded as well. Still, Faramir was so loved.

Things became quiet again and Tristed returned to the window. The three friends sat idly for awhile, but they were restless enough to notice Tristed's intake of breath.

"What is it?" Benold asked, already rising.

Tristed leaned out the window, seemingly trying to be sure in what he saw. "It's a girl!"

"A girl? Haven't you got one of those? Taur-something?" Benold asked with a hint of irritability or jealousy possibly in his tone.

"No, no! My, she's a good climber…" Tristed remarked, still looking out the window.

Benold reached the window and peered out as well. It took him only a second to see the girl, too. "That looks like the Lady Finwen!"

In an instant, Mordred sheathed his sword and rushed to the window, knocking the other two out of his way. He took one look and ran from the tower.

"Mordred!" Tristed called.

"Don't stop him, lad! Someone's got to help – why not us?"

A little guilty about leaving his post, Tristed decided there was no other option and followed in pursuit.

* * *

Luckily enough, the streets were completely empty. The moon was on the wane, but it gave enough light to illuminate the white city. And Finwen.

Tristed and Benold paused for a moment behind Mordred. The street was vacant and very quiet. They looked up.

Finwen was climbing the scaffolding surrounding the Houses of Healing. Not the most intricate gingerbread, it was rather impressive that she had gotten so high. Her balcony was at least ten feet to her left and she was edging along and upwards. By the random movements and long pauses, the three men had to assume she was sleepwalking.

Mordred started to take off his armor and dropped it in the street. "Wait here – catch her if she falls." He said, already starting to run.

"And where do you think you're going?" Tristed called.

"After her course!"

Mordred swiftly ran up the street – it was much easier without all his clanking armor. He reached the door to the Houses and found it locked fast. He knocked impatiently until the Warden appeared with a lantern.

Not giving the man a chance to question, Mordred said urgently: "Which way to Lady Finwen's room? I haven't time!"

"What're you doing here?" Ioreth, tying the last knot on her robe, asked as she wandered down the staircase.

In an effort to explain, Mordred simply decided to say: "Lady Finwen's in trouble."

The Warden allowed him to pass and Ioreth escorted Mordred to Finwen's room. Ioreth, still a little doubtful, opened the door first and checked the room herself to make sure everything was as he said. "She's gone!"

Huan looked delirious, but he was on the balcony staring upwards. The pair ran out onto the balcony and mimicked the dog's view. Ioreth let out a scream, but covered her mouth.

Finwen had somehow made it. She was walking along the side of the stone, hugging the wall, and already approaching the courtyard where the White Tree stood.

Mordred muttered a curse and ran from the room, realizing it would be futile trying to follow her. Ioreth stroked Huan, noticing the change in the old dog and was reluctant to leave him. Still, she could not forget Finwen and hastened from the room after Mordred, at a much more lady-like speed.

* * *

Mordred was the first to make it up to the last level of Minas Tirith. Of course, there was some obstacle with the password-keeping guards, but once he pointed out Finwen, they let him by. Benold and Tristed found Ioreth and they helped her pass the guards to catch up with Mordred.

The young guard stared out over the courtyard. The White Tree stood meek and mild in the center where guards still stood by. Just in case. The great doors of the looming White Hall were shut and a soft glow emitted from a tower high above them. He did not see her.

He turned around where the point of the courtyard ended and sky began. Finwen was running along the rail straight for the end where it stopped, staring East where the shadows in the sky were growing longer, even though dawn was approaching.

His stomach doing somersaults, Mordred made a wild dash after her. He needn't fear she would jump – in fact, she stopped just as she reached the end. Mordred stopped as well, confused, and not quite willing to approach her. She seemed a bit unstable after all…

"Finwen!" Ioreth's voice came from the stair. With Benold and Tristed at her heel, the old woman walked briskly towards Mordred and stopped when she took in the situation.

"Lady Finwen?" Mordred tried. Finwen stood erect, staring out over the fields of Pelennor and did not respond. Taking a different approach, he ordered: "Finwen, come down from there!"

Finwen slowly turned around. Wide-eyed with tear tracks down her pale face, she stared at the White Hall, over-looking the group before her. The crescent moon behind her made her look ominous. "All is hopeless… I cannot help him. He will die."

If he wasn't confused before, Mordred was in for a doozy. Because he could not think of anything to say, Ioreth stepped forward, somewhat knowingly. "He will not die, Finwen. You have given up too easily. Come down, child."

Finwen's blank eyes focused on Ioreth and she slowly nodded. "Yes… He does not need me… He will be alright…"

Ioreth opened her arms for the girl and Finwen blinked her eyes. She looked down at Ioreth with full recognition and wrinkled her brow. "Ioreth…?"

Half-dreaming still, Finwen was awake enough to realize where she was. She let out a small wail and let Ioreth pull her down and into a hug. Finwen cried, holding her mother tight.

"I… don't know what to do, Ioreth…! He doesn't need me. He doesn't need me, right? He can't need me!"

"Sh… darling… It's alright." Ioreth stroked her hair. She looked to the three men who stared back at her in shock at what was passing. "Who, dear?"

In a near inaudible whisper, one only Ioreth could barely catch, Finwen breathed: "I cannot marry him… his brother… I… no…"

Head spinning from the drama, Ioreth pat the poor girl's back and hushed her. She asked for the three to kindly escort them back to the Houses – Finwen needed to sleep. Without a word, the guards let Ioreth pass and followed behind her.

In a short breath, Tristed whispered: "Quite a sight! Never took her to be a head case… Always seems so… blissful."

"As did I." Benold agreed. "I always thought the lass was free from cares. Looks like she has too much on her mind, eh, Mordred?"

Mordred did not say anything.

* * *

OoC: So that was very strange, I know. I would have simply made her stand on an outcropping or something outside her balcony, but I added the excess of drama in the courtyard because I wanted to give everyone some more hints. Hope it didn't completely ruin everything like I suspect. x_x Anyways, thanks for reading! The next chapter is in the process.


	26. Rosemary and Time

**Reminder:: **Nope. I refuse.

So I'm still working! Almost there…? Ah, in my dreams. xD

I guess I forgot to mention a little experience I've had with sleep-walking (thank you iheartanime07 for inadvertently reminding me!) that is somewhat vital to what I have written. I'm a big sleep-walker. I've played video games when I'm asleep. xD But more importantly, I have woken up in places I'd never imagine; more specifically: my basement in the dark, inside a cardboard box, and outside on my porch. So I decided to give Finwen this slightly creepy/interesting trait. Hope that explains her feat a little more with the realistic angle I've given. Now! Without further ado—

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Six :: Rosemary and Time**

* * *

I did not remember my walk. Let alone my rescue… The only vivid memory I had was my nightmare. The war happening around me, being thoroughly alone, and Faramir seemingly dead. But it was not my last.

For the next few days, I was in and out of consciousness. When I went to sleep, I had many nightmares. They were all the same. There would be a white room, a field, a battle, death, fire – repeat. Ioreth was worried I would sleep-walk again, so she had me temporarily moved to my old room. Or at least it looked very much like it. I was exhausted from what little restless sleep I got, so I slept as much as I could.

Huan was by my side during this dark time that stretched the course of weeks into the beginnings of a chilly February. He snuggled up right against me and would lay his head on my stomach while I tried to sleep. When I would wake up crying, I could pat his head and know I was awake and everything was alright… Huan was my best friend.

I had watched him sink during my time in Minas Tirith. He missed roaming about. The grass, the trees, the horses – he was a farmer's dog. The city was boring and regular and nothing like what he was used to or what he deserved. But I was the only company he knew, and he was willing to follow me wherever I might go. Until the end.

I awoke from a vicious nightmare again as Ioreth was coming in with a cup of tea. I could smell it from where I lay and wrinkled my nose with displeasure.

"Up, up, up!" She said, carrying the tray. She placed it across my legs, shooing Huan aside. "Sit up dear; I have a treat for you. Smell this tea."

"I can smell it from here, thank you." I covered my nose.

"Do you know what this is?" She prompted.

"Not particularly. I've never smelt this before. What is it?"

Smiling, Ioreth bounced up and down a little on the bed. "We've found it! Well, actually my sister found it."

"You have a sister?"

"She lives elsewhere in Imloth Melui – we barely keep in touch. The point is, she was in Lebennin travelling where she found this. It's rosemary."

I sat up straighter, more willing to drink the foul tea. "Rosemary? You mean—"

"It's not a miracle-worker, dear." Ioreth warned. "But it's the best I can come up with to improve your memory. At any rate, it should improve your recent condition. Now drink up! I'll bring the whole pot in and you can work on it throughout the day."

She left the room and Huan crawled back into position after I had moved the tray. The liquid was near completely clear with a hint of greenish yellow along the outside of the cup. Leaves that looked like thick pine needles rested on the surface of the water. Although I felt I wouldn't like the taste, it at least smelled… very clean.

I took a wary sip and my tongue tingled. I took a larger gulp and felt my throat react with an unpleasant burn. I coughed and downed the rest of the hot cup, slightly scalding the insides of my mouth.

Ioreth didn't return immediately, so I got up from bed. Huan didn't bother leaving the bed, so I didn't bother him and covered him with my blanket. I went to the writing table and spread out a new parchment. At least I had something to tell the Lord Faramir now.

_Lord Faramir,_

_I have learned quite a good bit about myself this week. For instance, did you know that I sleepwalk? Apparently, I do so quite well. Ioreth fears I may put myself in danger, so I have been moved to a different room. She is wary of my balcony._

_There have been sleepless nights and nightmares and all else in between, but I cannot imagine what you must be going through. I hope Ioreth may teach me to knit. Then I could sew blankets for you and your men. At least I would feel like I was doing something with my time that way…_

_I have not been permitted to see the Steward. He has not called for me and at the moment, Ioreth feels that I am in no condition to see him. She worries though; all is well. I am not ill. _

_Still, I feel even what I have written is not much to write about anyways. Perhaps I'll make up some ludicrous story about thieves and orcs and mischief. It would be entirely fictitious of course, but it would at least put a smile to your face and spark some interest. These letters of mine are awfully dry._

_Until something interesting happens,_

_Finwen_

The letter wasn't very satisfying, so I planned on storing it away like my other letter. I opened the drawer where my last letter was and found it was missing. The drawer was empty.

Ioreth entered with her pot of tea and I immediately got to questioning her. She had to remind me that I was not in my old room, and so my things were not here. I felt very stupid and apologized. She sent me to bed again, feeling that I was a lunatic who was going to hurt herself. In all the hustle to get me back to bed, I didn't realize that she had taken my recent letter to be sent out. I didn't blame her.

I sat on the bed with a huff. The jerky movement didn't bother Huan. I reached over and stroked his ear and still he didn't bother to react. Normally, he would twitch his ear and try to listen for footsteps. He was not moving.

Suspicious and slightly worried, I crawled onto the bed and scratched at Huan around his neck where he liked it most. His unresponsiveness rattled me and I immediately started to think the worst. I shook him and repeated his name, but still Huan did not move. I removed the blanket.

Huan was asleep. Facing my pillow, his eyes were shut and his mouth was slightly parted. He looked relaxed and at ease. I pet his head knowingly, letting the choking sobs release and the tears pour out.

"I… I'm so sorry…" I whispered, not able to stop petting him. "I wish I never brought you here… You never belonged in stone walls… I'm so sorry, Huan."

I snuggled into the bed and fit myself against Huan. He must have died when I was taking my tea – I never noticed… he was just lying there like always… why would I suspect…?

I pet his soft ears and wiped away some of the blur in my eyes. It was easy to recall the stories Linius had told me about Huan and where he got his name. Like yesterday, the words came clearly to mind. "You were named after the faithful hound of Beren… He gave his life defending his master. You defended me from myself, Huan. You remained true to your name… The most loyal friend I could ever ask for… I remember you liked chasing the chickens, too… And you would run after our arrows. And eat the snow that fell from the sky in the winter time… I'm sorry, Huan… I'm so so s-sorry…"

New tears falling, I clung to his dead body next to me. Wild ideas came to mind as I thought how long I could get away with keeping him here beside me when I thought what the people of the Houses would do to him. Probably burn him or throw him away.

_No! I need to bury him. Properly. In a place he would like._

Without warning, Ioreth came into the room with the pot of tea. She saw me crying and came to comfort me. "Another nightmare?"

Not having the heart yet to talk about it, I simply nodded. "I just want to get back to sleep… please."

Kind enough to leave me be, Ioreth kissed my forehead and gave Huan an unsuspecting pat on the head and left, reminding me that the tea was sitting on the small writing table if I wanted it.

The moment she was gone, I got out of the bed and dressed myself in one of the House frocks that was hanging limp in the armoire. It was thick enough that I could wear it outdoors and be warm enough, but I wasn't worried about my comfort at the moment.

I went back to the bed and wrapped the blanket around Huan very carefully. I treated him like a glass figurine, worried I might break him. I started to pathetically cry again the minute his face disappeared in the blanket and so I had to wait a moment before I tried to lift him. He may have been old, but he was still a good-sized dog. He would be heavy.

True to my prediction, I struggled to lift Huan off the bed. When I finally had him in my arms, it took all the muscles in my arms, back, and legs to strain to hold him. I had to set him on the ground before I opened the door and found it was harder to lift him straight from the floor rather than the bed.

I discovered a new strength as I descended the stairs as I tried to hold onto him and remain undetected at the same time. A small broom closet at the bottom of the stair contained a shovel that was used to get the larger plants we needed, so I snatched it and balanced it atop my heavy bundle in the blanket.

The Warden was distracted in the pantry at the moment, checking to see if herbs were correctly identified and spelled. I snuck by the door and struggled to quietly open the front. When I finally made it to the street, I realized I had quite a journey ahead of me to get to Pelennor…

My first task was actually to hide Huan and the shovel in a tiny alley by the Houses. I hated leaving him, but I had to think as practically as I could. And so I ran to get Alatar.

The stables were practically empty – nearly every horse had been sent with Faramir's company. It was easy to find Alatar and he was excited to see me. Still, being such a good horse, he could sense my tense nature and the plain fact something was wrong. He nuzzled his nose on my neck and I hugged him in response. "We have to help an old friend, Alatar… Come, my friend. Huan needs us."

I led him from his stall and escorted him down the aisle. Just as I was about to leave, thinking I was safe, the stable master came around and saw me leaving with one of the horses. I had to explain that Alatar was mine and that I was indeed the Lady Finwen. It was a little hard for the man to believe considering he had never met me before, I had not visited Alatar in awhile, and I was wearing a poor frock from the Houses. Just as I contemplated jumping on Alatar and simply running off, I remembered the seven-star pendant around my neck.

"Here! See this? The Steward Denethor gave this to me on the last day of Yuletide." I held up the necklace for him to see. "Do you believe me to be Finwen now?"

The stable master accepted my proof and apologized. He mildly scolded me for not visiting Alatar more often, and I morosely agreed with him. I wasn't the best pet owner. Soon I was allowed to leave with Alatar trailing behind me.

Huan was still in the alley with the shovel when I returned. Without a saddle, it would be difficult, but I was determined enough. I slung Huan's stiffening body onto Alatar and quickly scrambled on top. I had to maneuver myself so that Huan was stuck between myself and Alatar's moving neck. It wasn't the easiest, but the shovel only made it harder. So this wasn't so bad…

I luckily remembered to give Alatar a set of reins, so I snapped them and had him turn down the street. People looked up at me in confusion – it almost looked like I was running away, I assume. But that was their standpoint and they did not know me or Huan.

Eventually, I made it out of the city. I left the outer gate with some persuasion (I actually showed the guards Huan's dead body). Not really knowing where to go, I had Alatar follow the old path where Ioreth and I collected herbs some months ago.

The fields were empty and dry. Not like I had remembered them. Patches of snow crippled the dead and breaking plants that were yellowed and brown from the cold.

Carrying Huan like this on Alatar reminded me of my escape from the burned home I knew in Rohan. The circumstances were rather similar really, if I looked into them. Only, I wasn't going to Ithilien, and I would not see Faramir, and Huan is dead. Seeing it clearly, I had killed Huan. I had taken him from his home and family and all that he knew. He had met his death sentence that day and he had died with all of that. Sure, he had survived with me, but he was not really alive. How could he be? How can someone lose everything and keep going and living and being? Time had killed him, too. How old was Huan? He was old when I met him, and that was well over a year ago… My eyes began to tear again, so I wiped them away. These thoughts will be the death of me! I must stop being such a cheerful person.

I had to leave Alatar behind. I had reached the path that cut through the corn stalks, and it was very muddy so I did not want to bring him in there. I got off of Alatar, took the shovel, and left Huan with my horse. I would dig the hole first and then come back for him. I hope no one needed that blanket…

The corn stalks were gone and foot high branches were in their place. I could clearly see the overhang from the cliff that sheltered the herbs Ioreth taught me to harvest. Everything was so bleak… At least there were pine trees. There would always be pine trees. They were the only hope of returning green. Today, they became my favorite tree as I approached the old grove where I found the Goldenseal and… what was that other thing? Sage! Yes, it was sage, wasn't it? Four or five of the trees lingered, harboring snow on their boughs and waiting for the light of spring.

The ground squished under my feet and my boots sunk in the deep. They were Linius' old boots. They were very good boots. Not some sissy pumps I had seen women of Minas Tirith wear. These were actually useful.

I scoffed at the idea of society while I started to dig my hole. The ground was very easy to scrape through, but I was dissatisfied with it. Once I hit clay, the earth became much harder to dig through, but I had not even gone a foot down. This would take much longer than I thought…

My hands blistered and were worn raw from the wooden handle of the shovel, but I kept digging. It was something to get my mind off of things – mundane work. It was just what I needed, really. Something to focus entirely on with only a few thoughts of pain in my hands to accompany me. It was good work.

I took a couple breaks, but I finished the decently sized hole under one of the pine trees. I reached a root and decided I wouldn't chop through it – I was a good three feet down. Huan should fit and feel comfortable inside.

I left the shovel behind and went to get my dog. When I carted him to the hole and put him in it, I couldn't find it in myself to actually cover him up. I had to though, so I bit through the guilt and tears and apologized with every new shovelful of dirt. When all was said and done, his funeral was short and painful and my hands were bleeding and I had buried the blanket with him. I wish I had some flowers… or a marker of some kind. The little lump in the ground wasn't enough for my good, loyal friend.

I regretfully turned away and dragged the shovel behind me. The cold air was nipping at my nose and the crying was making it run. I wiped my face on my sleeve like a big, messy child. My hands hurt badly enough that I did not want to carry the shovel anymore or touch anything for that matter, so I struggled to drag the shovel using my wrists. It must've been an interesting sight…

When I reached Alatar, I pet his face and climbed onto him. I picked up the shovel like a staff and took one last look towards Huan. I bid him farewell and snapped the reins to get back to the city. My disappearance was unlikely to go unnoticed.


	27. Official

**Reminder:: **I still don't own anything. Except this outrageous plotline. xD

Phew! I can't believe I've managed to get this far… Still, I fear this is as far as I will go before Christmas. I still have another Fanfiction to write that I've promised to get much much further on, so I have to chip away at that, too. Hope you understand! Don't hate me. x_x The most I can promise you is a major (and I mean _major_) event next chapter. See if you can guess what it is. =3

Happy Christmas and a Merry Yuletide to you all~!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Seven :: Official**

* * *

My dreamscape was blurry, but the smell was clear. I deeply inhaled the scent of fresh hay and wood smoke. Chickens clucked nearby and Huan barked. I opened my eyes. He was licking my face and I had to fight to get him off of me, giggling madly and rolling away.

"Huan! Here, boy!" Linius called.

I sat up from the grass, lying on my stomach now, and saw Linius running down the hill after us. Huan ran playfully up to greet him and licked his hands like a little puppy.

"What are you doing, Lady?" He asked, catching up to my spot on the brown grass.

"Watching the clouds." I replied, rolling back over. Linius sat down beside me and hugged his knees, looking out over the plain. "What do you see?"

"Nothing different." He replied. "What about you?"

I shrugged. I got up and sat next to him. The horses were grazing and galloping about in the pasture. A few rowdy foals were kicking and bucking, playing with one another and bothering their parents. Watching them made me want to rough house, too, so I randomly shoved Linius over and scrambled up, trying to run away.

Linius was the faster runner and he caught up to me without a problem. He tackled me to the ground as I squealed and pushed him away. He tickled me, making me scream for mercy.

"What's going on out here?" Beleg came out of the house, staring down at us with a smile.

"Father…! Help!" I gasped, not able to escape Linius.

Beleg came running, my hero, and lifted Linius off of me. He tickled his son, making Linius shout, and the two started to hit each other, wrestling on the ground like young boys.

I laughed at them as Huan came in to join the rabble. He barked and whined until they stopped and we all gave him our undivided attention.

"You're such a good dog! Good dog!" I cooed, scratching his neck.

"A spoiled dog! Lady's made a soft one out of you." Beleg light-heartedly scolded.

"Lady!" Linius called. He had left sometime in between and had his grey horse behind him. "Let's race!"

I couldn't think of a better thing to do. I stood up and whistled clearly, something I didn't know I could do until just now in my perfect world. Alatar miraculously answered my call from the fields. He ran straight for me, jumping the fence and hurtling towards me before reaching a gallop and then an easy trot. I hugged his face and stroked his nose to congratulate him.

Without a saddle, I hopped onto his back with ease and Linius appeared much the same on his horse beside me. "Ready?"

"Only if you think you can keep up!" I challenged, and set Alatar running.

And we were off. The wind whipped my hair back out of my face and the earth moved with Alatar. Huan chased after us, but he was much too slow to keep up with our rapid pace and soon his barks faded into the distance behind us. The grass weaved away from us and the clouds opened up, revealing the sun as we entered the pasture and ran into nowhere. I did not need to hold on; Alatar was protecting me. I spread my arms wide and threw my head back with laughter and ecstasy. Utter bliss! I was flying…! I could do anything!

And I had to wake up.

I slid out of bed, feeling a little cold, and looked down. Huan was not there.

I got ready for the day, putting on a fitting dress and washing my face. I was back in my old room with my beautiful bed and large balcony. I took one of the dried strands of rosemary and held it over my candle. On fire, I tossed it into a small dish to burn and I inhaled the strong fragrance for only a moment before leaving it behind to fill the room with the pulsating, healing scent.

I opened my armoire and with a quick look left and right, I reached into the very back and took out Linius' bow. My clothes from when I first arrived, my boy's clothes, were hiding peacefully in the back of the wardrobe. It was a place I hoped Ioreth wouldn't look. I remember she wanted to destroy all my old linens, but I had saved them at the last moment, storing them away. At least she didn't have a problem with my boots… I liked them very much.

The quiver of arrows was only an empty container. I had no arrows to shoot with the strained bow. Still, I strung the bow easily and held it up to my face, about to shoot an imaginary arrow at my wall. I sighed and put the string back, taking the bow apart and storing my things away back into the wardrobe.

I parted the curtains that blocked the balcony and stepped out. The air was very cold, but there was no wind today. Perhaps spring would come soon…

Not able to help myself, I looked East. There was something about the black land that was so… magnetic. I could so easily be drawn in; in an instant I may change my mind, drop everything, and lose all logic. I wanted so badly to reach out and just… touch. It was like a forbidden item. It was rarely talked about and everyone knew its dangers. But all the same, I was curious and I wanted to _see_. I had felt the power of Mordor's shadow in my nightmares and my restless days, but to actually see the source…? It was so unimaginable.

"Good morning! Already out of bed?" Ioreth stepped into my room with a smile. Since Huan died, she urged herself to be excessively cheerful to make up for the gap. It was very nice, but the thing I was more appreciative of was the lack of punishment for leaving the city. No lectures!

"Good morning, Ioreth." I stretched and walked back into the room from the balcony. "Yes."

"Nightmare?"

"Actually… no. A dream. A very good dream." I smiled.

"Good! Seems the rosemary's working." She sniffed at the cinders of the plant in the dish.

I nodded, not able to come up with any other conclusion. "I am feeling much better."

"Good, good!" Ioreth repeated, setting down our breakfast things. I drew out the writing table and an extra chair, setting up the plates so we could eat. She poured the tea as she talked: "It's good that you are feeling better. Very good! Very good!"

"Is… there something you want to say?" I guessed with a sly smile.

"Yes! How did you know?" She asked, looking a bit hurt that she didn't have a poker face. "The Steward has finally contacted the Warden of the Houses. He wishes to see you immediately!"

"Oh." I said. What was I supposed to say? Honestly, I was glad Denethor had left me alone for a few weeks. I did not think I could hold myself up in the state I was in in his presence, and besides – our last encounter was very awkward. He was drunk and had announced to his party guests that I was to marry his eldest son. Not exactly something to let go…

Ioreth was put out by my reaction. "Well, aren't you excited?" She asked, sitting down across from me.

As I buttered a piece of hard bread, I nodded. "I suppose so. Yes."

"I cannot lie and say I enjoyed your hesitation… This is big news!"

"Why?" I frowned. "I mean…" I took a few bites and swallowed. "Things will just go back to normal, won't they? I used to see the Lord Denethor every day. How is this any different? How is it special?"

Ioreth bounced up and down, trying to chew faster with her excitement. "Because! He has had time to think over his proposal – I think he wants to hear your formal opinion on a wedding."

"Oh." I said with more conviction. So that's what this is about… Poor Ioreth… She's too simple – she just hears wedding and goes 'Ooo!' without thinking what either party's circumstances are. Like… we've never even met.

"Right, then!" Ioreth clapped her hands, wiping her mouth and standing. "Time to get you dressed and ready!"

"What's wrong with this dress?" I whined, wanting to finish my food.

Ioreth stole the bread from my hand as I reached for some water. "Now don't gorge yourself, dear, you'll never fit into your old corset."

Ugggghhh.

* * *

The Steward Denethor rubbed his temples in only the slightest form of vexation. He had to face Finwen sometime. After all, he had put it off long enough and she will soon be a daughter of his. Officially, that is. In his eyes, she was quite good enough already, she just didn't have any credentials or a ring on her finger. She could not prove herself to be Finduilas, but she is the closest they come. Only the best for his son.

"The Lady Finwen." A guard who seemed to appear out of nowhere announced.

Denethor looked down at the man and waved his hand in response. "Yes, yes, show her in."

Sitting up straighter in his chair next to the king's throne, Denethor watched as the doors opened and Finwen stepped in after receiving a subtle push from the old woman of the Houses of Healing. She was wearing the dress she wore on the last day of Yuletide. Although a bitter reminder, it was still a very lovely dress.

Finwen stepped into the room with a deep intake of breath. She had to admit, she was finally facing a fear in a way. Not a fear of commitment, but a fear of committing to something bigger than herself. And now it was directly in front of her.

The girl walked up to the Steward and bowed before him properly with a curtsey like a lady should. Denethor was impressed with how much she seemed to age since he saw her last. There was definitely something different about her… It was not dark. Whatever it was. So that was comforting.

"Finwen! Lovely to see you, child. It has been far too long." Denethor rose and walked up to her. She took his hand and he led her to the usual table where he would eat, she would pick, he would talk, and she would listen. The two settled in and the silence began.

How to go about approaching a subject like this? Perhaps he was in a high enough position to just tell her like it was an order. But then again, that's not the best way to persuade her… Why persuade? Just tell her to do it and she should. If she does not, she is not the wife for Boromir. He needs a submissive girl to look after his house and many sons while he is off winning victories. Yes, Finwen could be that woman. If only she gained a little weight… She looks too fragile for bearing children.

Denethor cut off his thoughts with a clap of his hands, finally deciding what to say. Finwen looked up, surprised and slightly startled at the noise. "I would like to apologize how this subject was brought about to you – I wish I had consulted you first on the subject openly before announcing it so."

"I understand." Finwen answered dutifully. So she knew what was going on. Good. Makes things easier to explain.

"Good. As you know, Boromir is my eldest and most trusted son. He is the pure essence of Minas Tirith – at its finest! I would not want to disappoint him when choosing his bride."

Finwen remained silent. Denethor did not see her shrink ever so slightly.

"Therefore, after careful consideration… I have chosen you, Finwen. I am willing to ignore your status of birth and your obvious foreign nativity for your beauty, age, and simply for the fact that I have grown rather fond of you. What do you say to that?" He managed to make an impression.

Finwen stopped staring at the table and smiled at her lord. "It is an honor. The most important honor I could ever imagine."

"So you accept. Excellent. How does it feel to be officially engaged to my son?"

"Indescribable, my lord." She said.

"Ha! We feast!" Denethor announced and trays of food were brought before them.

As Denethor tore into his food, Finwen managed to eat something herself while her head and heart raced. So she had done it. She had believably presented herself to the Steward and fooled him into thinking she was happy about all of this. While her stomach threatened to repel anything she dared try to eat, Finwen tried to eat to her host's desire while her thoughts went wild with guilt.

Something inside Finwen finally clicked.

_If only it was your other son…_


	28. Bated Breath

**Reminder:: **Ooo, I really don't own this now. Tolkien's beautiful mastery is about to come into play and nearly everything is his. n_n

Yay! I've waited so long to get here. This chapter took forever because I wanted to be sure it was juuust right. I've felt I haven't done Denethor, truly one of my favorite characters, much justice so far, but I've tried to keep the vague atmosphere for our ignorant Finwen/Sarah. Still, I'd hate to transform him into movie Denethor, so I've tried my hardest here to show… what I think Denethor really is: a proud, intelligent, strong-willed man who has faced more sorrows than sanity can bear.

I'm really excited; I hope you are, too! Please tell me how I did so I can improve this chapter even more. =)

Edit Notice:: This chapter's name used to be 'Suspended Animation'. It was sort of temporary until I could remember this title. Sorry for the confusion. n_n'

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Eight :: Bated Breath**

* * *

February the twenty-ninth. The first thing I think of is 'leap year,' but apparently the calendars are different and leap year does not exist. Something else to make me all the more strange to this land.

If I do say so myself, I think I have adjusted quite well. Disregarding the obvious seams that still separate me, I have integrated into this new life without too much difficulty. I have experienced their culture. I have learned to read and write and speak with appropriate etiquette. I wear dresses. I sew. I embroider. I arrange flowers. I label herbs. I visit Alatar and say hello like a lady. I write letters. I sit with my hands folded in my lap. I ride side saddle.

I do not wear pants. I do not speak unless spoken to. I do not run. I do not use my bow. I no longer have strange dreams. I do not stare at the East. I do not argue my Lord Denethor. I do not argue Ioreth. I do not make faces at the palace guards. I have not seen Benold, Tristed, or Mordred.

I will listen to whatever I am told to do. I will wear the large white gown Denethor has had made for me. I will carry the flowers. I will walk down the aisle. I will say 'I do'. I will get married. I will obey my husband. I will respect my husband. I shall revere my husband. I will bear sons. I will sew their clothes. I will teach them what I know. I will be a good mother.

I am a lady.

* * *

My desk seemed to be particularly drab today. Everything has been so dull since my engagement. I keep having all these terribly depressing thoughts of me never actually finding love and horrible fears that Boromir will abuse me or be old or (from the shallowest depths of my mind) ugly.

And I feel nauseated that I had to have that thought in the White Hall. A thought that was so ludicrous, so absurd, and in every sense of the word: ridiculous! But it persisted. It haunted my thoughts like the image of the eastern mountains, only slightly less ominous. It filled my heart not with shadow or dread, but of embarrassment and shame.

Not even married to Boromir, and it felt like I was cheating on him. With his brother.

_Scum. Scum. Failure. Scum._

"Finwen, get your head off of that table and look alive." Ioreth scolded, walking into the room with my wedding dress. She kicked the door closed behind her – she was in a bad mood. That meant she would be more impatient than usual. I couldn't blame her though if she was angry with me: I was rather a flop lately.

I picked my head up, used to being told what to do, and stood. I smoothed my skirt and adjusted my hair so I would be presentable. Ioreth was already holding the dress up for me.

I changed into the heavy gown and stepped delicately onto the stool she set out. Ioreth sat on a chair and picked up the bottom of the dress to hem it some more.

The reason we had to do this in the first place was because of Denethor. He was kind to have had this beautiful dress made, but he had it made nearly five inches taller than myself. It must've been his wife's height. I never told him of course, but the dress was giving us trouble. It had beautifully stitched flowers and stars woven all throughout the piece, but because we had to take nearly five inches off, the design was mutilated and obscured. So Ioreth spent her time creating a new design on the bottom to match the old one that was hemmed away, and I stood on the stool with the dress on to make sure she was lining everything up nicely.

We did not talk much these days. It being the last days of February, Denethor had announced my engagement at the beginning of the month. I had come back to my room quite shaken – if Ioreth didn't notice, I would question her ability to read people or help them when they're ill. I think about that evening quite a bit, actually…

"Finwen, what is the matter with you? You're paler than a newborn child!" Ioreth laughed at me when the door to the Houses closed. The guards who escorted me had left and the Warden was watching me closely.

I could not help it. The food I had forced down in front of Denethor came back up in the most violent way I could imagine. I hit my knees as my head spun.

The Warden was standing over me as I retched. Ioreth was suddenly there, in and out, holding my hair and trying to force me to stand. The next thing I remember was lying down in my bed, shivering cold.

Ioreth mopped my forehead with a wet cloth and shoved different disgusting herb mixtures in my mouth she called 'remedies'. Whatever they were, they did not help my waves of nausea. Though my stomach felt better from the teas and pastes, they did not help my appetite over the next days following.

For a few days, I stared at the ceiling and refused to talk. Ioreth found my behavior strange and slightly terrifying. I remember her talking in the hallway, thinking I could not hear her. It was much like my first day in the Houses.

"What's happened to her, Ioreth? I hear she's run a fever?" A woman's voice inquired.

Ioreth's voice hesitated. "I… I think it has something to do with this engagement business."

"Oh! The poor dear! She's going to go through with it, isn't she?"

"Of course she is! There's not any other option! I'm just worried she'll be sick like this on her wedding day."

"Dear, dear!" The other woman sighed and clicked her tongue. "My daughters were nervous when their father chose husbands for them, but I have never seen something like this."

Ioreth defended me. "Do remember that she's not the most stable of mind. Remember when she wore trousers?"

"I do recall now that you mention it… She certainly must not be right in the head."

"No. She's… just not from around here."

And the conversation had ended.

When I finally got up the guts to speak with Ioreth, she was all ears. The first thing I said though inadvertently became an insult.

"Ioreth… may I speak with you? I… have a secret. I need advice." I sat up in bed.

"Of course, darling!" Ioreth set down her cloth and sat on the edge of my bed. She tried to fix my plastered hair, but I flinched. She backed off.

"Please… don't tell anyone…" I began, feeling the pit of my stomach roll.

She had a sharp glint in her eye. "What? Why would I tell anyone? Do you think I gossip incessantly?"

"No! No!"

"I can't be trusted? Is that it?"

"No, Ioreth! Please!" I begged her to stop. "I didn't mean anything by it. I just wanted to… make this very confidential. More than anything else I have ever told you before. About anything."

Ioreth sat back, her feathers smoothed for the time. "All right then. Go on."

I told her about what happened when I was with Denethor. How he had apologized for embarrassing me and how he was going to accept me as a daughter despite my lack of… well, everything that is important for a daughter-in-law that regular tradition held. Ioreth scoffed at some of his insults, but would contradict herself later when she said she understood his obligations. Finally, I told her about the suspicion I had.

"I have never thought like this before." I said, the room shaking slightly. "I… I know I am wrong. Denethor has been so good to me, and I have betrayed his wishes."

"What are you talking about?" Ioreth snapped. It was obvious she wanted me to 'just spit it out,' but after my recent upset stomach, I did not want to think of the allusion.

"I am supposed to marry Boromir, but I want to marry Faramir instead!" I cried, pulling at my hair.

"Oh! Oh, dear…" She bit her lip. She did not know what to say. "What have you gotten yourself into, child?"

Ioreth had hugged me then and I felt that it wasn't so bad. Perhaps when she let me go, I wouldn't remember a thing. And I could get out of this city. And I could go home.

But when she pulled away, she flatly told me everything was not alright. She crushed me. Looking sternly at me, Ioreth pointed her finger and said: "Now you need to forget all of this nonsense. Of course you prefer the Lord Boromir. It is who the Steward has chosen for you and it is who you will grow to love with time. This foolishness concerning the brother has only come up because you are afraid of marriage. You said just as much after your sleep-walking rubbish."

"But—"

"No. Now forget all of this. It would be better for you. For all of us."

* * *

I used to think she was right. Really, I hadn't thought of it beforehand. It was just me being afraid of standing up for something bigger than myself.

But what if it simply sparked what was already there? Made me realize before it was too late? Gave me a chance to change things before they were cemented forever?

In what I assumed to be an effort to make me forget, Ioreth treated me very seriously. She was not as warm as I remembered her to be. She spoke in short, chopped sentences. It was so unfamiliar from her usual ramblings. She also never referred to either Faramir or Boromir. Ioreth did not even mention the Lord Denethor. She was concentrated on a single mission: getting me down the aisle in one piece. If she could accomplish that, I would be out of her hair forever. And she had grown too attached as it was.

I had, too. I would have to live with the Steward's family of course. I could not live by myself in the Houses of Healing with Ioreth and the Warden and all the kindly women always running about. But how could I leave? It was like a home away from home. It was the closest thing I had. I didn't want to just walk away.

Standing still like a lady on the stool, Ioreth with a pin in her set mouth busily sewing below me with an irritated wrinkle in her brow, a sound suddenly touched both of our ears at the same time.

The city went quiet.

I strained my ears to hear what everyone was holding their breath for.

In the distance it rang through the trees, rocks, and hills. Miles away and yet so clear. Clear as the sky on a cloudless day in an ice-capped winter landscape. Echoing. Echoing.

The horn blew three times before it ceased.

The city breathed.

* * *

It was like Hell had been unleashed. People were everywhere at once in the streets. Some women were celebrating by throwing flowers wherever they went. Other women feared they were acting too quickly and hid in their homes with the windows shut. Some men feasted and poured wine. Other men stared towards the East and shuddered. But they all had something in common; they all waited.

Ioreth was immediately a wreck. She wasn't someone who was very good in a crisis. Still wearing the wedding dress, I jumped from the stool and caught Ioreth at the door as she was trying to leave all in a fluster.

"Ioreth! Was that a horn? What does that mean?"

"Anything!" She breathed. "The Horn of Gondor! Oh! I fear for him! I do!"

And without another word, she broke free of me and ran down the hall to see if others feared the same.

What was there to fear? A horn? What did this mean?

* * *

I soon understood. Eavesdropping on people who pass by your door isn't hard, and what they said was mostly positive. From what I gathered, the Horn of Gondor had been blown and the Lord Boromir carried it. Most people believed he was near and was signaling the city as he travelled homewards.

So this was it then. I would meet Boromir.

I could actually smile at the thought. Not many girls have the chance of knowing who their husband will be by the first glance. This would decide everything! I could not help my girlish excitement (and slight nervous dread) to meet my match.

But there was something wrong.

As much as I wanted to believe this was a good thing like most in the city, the ones who were worried frightened me. Why would there be need to worry? Boromir is near.

I would soon find out. The Warden was at my door not an hour after Ioreth left me. He looked me up and down, surprised I was wearing the gown and said: "The Steward wishes to see you, Lady Finwen. Immediately. Come with me."

* * *

I had never walked with the Warden before. The first thing I think of when I hear 'warden' is the man before me, but I really don't know anything about him at all. Except that he always smells like peppermint. Sometimes he would pass out peppermint candies to children – I received a few in my time in the Houses if he had made some and he saw me about. He was an old man, and he was a kind man. From what I had seen, the Warden worked mostly in a single room near the entrance to the Houses where thousands of herbs surrounded him. If there was a special case, he may go out to see what the trouble was, but he mostly let the women run the facility. He was a behind the scenes man.

Now he was walking quickly in front of me, or what he thought was quickly. He was shuffling forward with a hasty-like speed, but it was no more than a jovial walking pace for a young man. The Warden had a hunch in his shoulders that told me he was on a mission – I could not see his face from behind him of course. If his shoulders didn't tell me he had a mission, the fact that he was racing me to Denethor at old-person speed without letting me change out of my wedding dress certainly did. Really, I analyze things too much.

Approaching the doors to the White Hall, I turned momentarily and looked back at the outside world from this height. The view was one of my favorites in the city – so high up looking down and around and out. I could see Rammas Echor, the great outer wall nearly ten leagues out. The sky seemed clearer today. Perhaps all was well after all.

But as I turned to face the Warden, I could tell this sort of haste could not be well. The Warden stopped on the steps as the guards opened the doors and took me from there. I did not get the chance to look back or thank the Warden for escorting me.

I was practically shoved into the room. Denethor was not in his chair ruminating as usual. Instead, he was pacing up and down. When the doors shut, he jumped at the sound and sight of me. I could see sweat was pouring down his face. He was a mess of nerves.

The guards released me, but I felt rooted to the spot. Denethor was just staring at me from across the room and I was staring back, probably looking terrified at the sight of him quivering so.

I did not need the order. I walked a few steps, but I could not find it in myself to go further. I felt rebellious at this moment. I had been cornered too long and this demand to see me met by silence was putting me on edge. I wanted to kick off my shoes and run. I actually tried getting one shoe off, but I realized too late that they were laced on. _Damn._

Without a word, Denethor stormed towards me at an alarming rate. Inches from me, he stared into the depths of my quavering eyes like he could read them. He checked my face, waiting for something and then grunted in annoyance. He turned on his heel and collapsed into his chair next to the King's. One of his old hands shielded his face, so it took me a moment to realize he was crying.

I approached him slowly. My legs like Jell-O, it was not hard to kneel at his side. What should I do with such an emotionally unpredictable person? He was dangerous. But I had grown fond of him, too, in a strange, far off sort of way and I did not like seeing him so vulnerable like this. Remembering his laugh at Yuletide when he was drunken and childish, I suddenly wanted to hear that again. It was out of character for him, but it was better than this.

Carefully, after sitting on the floor for some time, I stared at the hand resting on the arm of the chair. Instinct pulled my hand up and I reached for it. I delicately placed my hand on top of his.

To my surprise, Denethor flinched. Like an involuntary twitch, he had stopped sobbing underneath his hidden hand. He suddenly gripped my hand hard and cried again. I think he was glad for my company.

"Please… I do not like seeing you this way." I managed to say. "Be you again."

Seemingly not hearing me, Denethor whispered in a daze. "Desperate was his call! My son! Come home, my son!"

Knowing he feared the worst like the some of the city of Minas Tirith, I felt like I could not waver. I had to be the positive force in this. If we were both negative, the whole world would come crashing down.

"He will come, my Lord." I answered, trying to be reassuring. "His call brings him home."

Denethor suddenly looked at me. The tear tracks on his face clenched my heart – but the sharp glinting glare pierced it. "For thy sake, Finduilas, he will live. No… He cannot die. You are here… Yes… He cannot die."

* * *

February the twenty-ninth. The first thing I think of is 'leap year,' but apparently the calendars are different and leap year does not exist. Something else to make me all the more strange to this land.

I have obeyed. I have listened. I have become what they wanted me to be. I have been molded – formed – created. I have been patient. I have been attentive. I have done everything I have been told to do.

I am a lady.

For nothing.

Here I sit in the White Hall. Time seems to be at a standstill. Denethor is in his tower – lights shine every now and again. He does not want to believe these things. There truly is nothing to believe – yet. We've no word. We only have assumption. Dark, terrible estimations of doom and sorrow… And yet, a light may still be at the end of the tunnel. A single hope that is far off, but it is there and it shines for us.

But I fear this hope is a falsity.

For three days, I have practically lived in the White Hall. I feel like Denethor. I feel like I have suddenly known him better. I watch him, scrutinizing his reactions to everything. I fall asleep at the side of his chair when he stares awake and I cannot last as long as he can. I awake in the morning on a cot. I barely eat. I just watch. Simply watching and waiting.

Boromir should be home by now.

The only reasons I have left the White Hall are to bathe. Even then, the servants who so vigilantly attend the Steward have me bathed and I change back into my wedding dress. I must be prepared. Like Denethor. He is a very ready man.

All the times I doubted the Lord Denethor, feared him, looked down upon him – they all seem to have vanished. I finally understand. Boromir is his all. He never wanted him to go. He will never forgive himself if—

Whatever preparations there were for Boromir's return or a wedding have been halted. Nobody moves. We are tense. We have to… make sure we are not wasting our time; however cruel it sounds.

Like an animal, the loyal Huan at the foot of his master, I sit on the floor next to Denethor's empty chair. My eyes are drooping – it is late. I have stared at it for a few hours now; I cannot bear the sight of it any longer. I try to ignore it as it rests on the chair. I am tired.

The cloven horn will never again make its desperate call.


	29. House Arrest

**Reminder:: **Making a semi-witty disclaimer is getting hard! x_x What you recognize still isn't mine; it belongs to the previously aforementioned owners.

Been a bit longer than I wanted, but here I am! n_n

Just because I feel like getting you all hyped up: another major canon appearance is coming up! Chapter Thirty-Two! Look forward to a general favorite and an adorable shortie. =3

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Nine :: House Arrest**

* * *

Pacing about in my room wasn't the most exciting thing in the world. Separated from Ioreth and completely isolated, I could not bring myself to realize the severity of my situation. What a change! In just a matter of hours how my world had simply flipped upside down. Hold a moment; I'll explain.

The days surrounding the discovery of Boromir's cloven heirloom became a series of waiting and utter chaos. When I wasn't wandering the White Hall by myself, I was next to Denethor's chair waiting with him. Sometimes he would cry and sometimes he would stare off into nothing, too shocked to move. On the third day when the horn was brought, word had come that Faramir had returned to the city. This seemed to only confirm rumors though he was probably only coming to learn if these things were true himself. I would not know. I was not permitted to see him.

In fact, when word had reached Denethor that Faramir was come to the city, he had completely changed. The Steward was an unstable man, but he had been through so much and so much was still relying on him. At a moment's notice, he was willing to lash out at anybody. And it was unfortunate that the first person he saw was me.

Unlike the other days in the Hall, Denethor took one look at me and went near berserk. His pupils had dilated and he spit from his mouth. "You! You! You!" He kept saying, wagging his finger at me.

Half-worried that he might strike me, I had risen from my chair and backed quickly away. This seemed to only anger him more and he followed after me.

"You are not my Finduilas!" He rightly accused. "You are a vixen in woman's clothes! Sworn to the enemy! You'll be the death of my house! Out! Out!"

And now here I sit in my room, quite literally chained to my bed. Ioreth was not to speak to me – no one was to speak to me. I was given food, so I wasn't caged like an animal just yet. I might have well been in a dungeon or a prison cell though what with this sporadic treatment.

A heavy iron cuff clung tightly to my left ankle and wrapped about the lower bed post. My movement was limited this way so I could not reach the door. It would not matter – it was locked from the outside anyways. The only thing I could do was write letters that would never send or step out on my balcony; it was close enough to my bed, but I could not go near the rail.

I stopped pacing, losing my reminisces of yesterday, and listened closely. Horses.

A rare thing in the city, I ran towards the balcony. I passed the curtains and took two strides out. The clinking of the chain stopped with a sharp tug – I could go no further.

My hair picked up in the strong wind gathering outside. The sun had not shown itself for days now. The clouds forming had grown blacker and blacker; a sign of the times. From what I could see, the people were in the streets below to welcome the new Captain-Heir.

Faramir the Captain-Heir. It was strange.

I could not see anything of interest because of my precarious position. I stooped and picked up the heavy chain, pulling at it. My bed was much too heavy. I might have well been Sisyphus pushing a boulder uphill.

I sat on the ground dismally. Everything was too confusing and I was left in the dark in more ways than one.

* * *

His son would never return. The palantir had told him as much. Boromir was lost. His son… lost.

Denethor clenched his fist tight around the carved arm rest. Finwen! He had trusted her too much. Let her in. She had succeeded – somehow. The Valar only know how, but she had managed to slay his son right under his nose…

But it all seemed too impossible. Finwen had been here the whole time… But Denethor began to see the girl in the light of the fire again, uttering the same words he had heard in the palantir before: _… kill… your son!_

One of his sons was dead. He knew it in his heart. And the palantir never lied.

And frightening images of gathering orcs and boats on the river – coming, coming… Too late. All was too late. It would be lost. Fire. The city would be lost. The Eye… And Denethor could not do anything. He could do nothing but wait for the doom of his people…

No! Never! He is a man of Gondor. Steward of Minas Tirith. He mustn't allow this to happen. But what could he do?

He knew it was a matter of time before the great war, the last war; to end all peoples would erupt over the world. Orcs would spill out of the gates of Mordor and wash over the city like waves on a pile of sand. Gondor was weak. But there may still be hope. If he could evacuate all the women and children, keeping only those able to fight, he may defend Minas Tirith yet. And Osgiliath. The outer defenses must be in tact if they wish to win this onslaught. And Boromir… he had kept the city safe. He raised morale. He brought Osgiliath back to his father on a silver platter. Whatever he asked of Boromir would be done and done efficiently. If only he had—

"The Lord Faramir, Steward." A man announced and his younger son strode fearlessly into the hall.

Aggravated by the interruption of his thoughts, Denethor was only made more upset for the fact that Faramir was standing before him. This wasn't Boromir! What little use he is, Faramir. And to make things worse, he has left Osgiliath un-minded while on this 'trip' of his home.

Denethor grunted this thought aloud. "You have left Osgiliath. Why?"

Faramir stopped in his tracks. For a moment, Denethor thought he might try to answer him, but instead, Faramir's eyes rested on the horn split in two resting on his father's lap. Denethor noticed this and was angered. He wrapped the horn in his robes, stashing it from sight, and looked to Faramir for his answer.

"The… Osgiliath, my lord, is under control." Faramir replied.

"Why have you come? Come to gawk impishly at the horn of your brother, now deceased?"

Faramir paused. Faramir would not share what he had seen with his father, his brother travelling from Rauros in an elvin boat laden with his peacefully resting body and the weapons of his foes. No; Denethor need not hear this. May he cling to whatever hope he had left of Boromir returning. It was the same hope his sanity rested upon.

But this still took Faramir by surprise. He was expecting his father to be rash, frightened for the loss of his favorite, but Faramir did not expect him to be surprised that he had come. Wasn't it natural to be concerned for his father? Perhaps it was a family thing that neither could understand between them. Something that was empty and hidden away like the broken horn. Denethor loved both his sons, truly and deeply; they were all he had. But Faramir could see clearly that he was shaken by this loss. That although Boromir was dead, he was frightened for Faramir as well. Somewhere amidst the cold, scathing glares and sharp questions, Denethor was concerned. And Faramir felt this was all he needed.

Faramir bowed his head. "I was concerned for you, Father. I will now return to the outer defenses if you so wish."

"I do."

Faramir nodded. With another slight bow, he left all behind. This was probably the second shortest visit with his father he would have.

He did not inquire about Finwen. She was probably mourning the loss of her betrothed and wished not to be bothered. A slight pang reminded Faramir and he shook the thought away. Faramir would bring more men with him this time and make sure the Citadel was running smoothly here before he would leave again in the morning. He clenched his fist, tightening the gauntlet about his wrist, and left the White Hall.


	30. Expelled

**Reminder:: **NOT MINE!

Here we go! March first in Minas Tirith. n_n

As a further note, if you visit _The Lord of the Rings_ wiki, you'll find it pretty awesome that the featured article today is Faramir. Just so you know. =3

Thank you for the continued support!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty :: Expelled**

* * *

It was very strange. Finwen felt miraculously free. At the physical appearance, this sounded ridiculous. The girl was a prisoner in her own room, chained to her bed post. But secretly, Finwen felt… new. Something had finally clicked in her mind that swept her up but pulled her down in a rushing river of guilt. It wasn't right, but… it couldn't be wrong.

The flowers she had collected for Yuletide had died and had been left to dry out in the sun. They filled a vase in her room on her writing table, stiffly staring at her with their shriveled heads and pressed petals. Finwen had a pile of petals turned to dust underneath her and a handful of the flowers in her fist.

She took out another long stem and picked at the head. Stripping the flower clean, she crumpled the petals between her fingers and let them fall from her hand to the floor. When she was done, she dropped the stem below her and picked up another flower.

This was how she was currently spending her time. She had exhausted her supply of paper writing whatever was on her mind including bits of poetry and song and just simple observations of her room and sketches of objects around her. Without much to do except embroider, this flower destruction was very entertaining.

Was it wrong not to care so much? She had never actually _known_ Boromir, per say… How wrong that sounded. She wouldn't say it like that anymore.

Then how would she say it? She wouldn't have to get married anymore… She wouldn't feel so guilty because she liked his brother more…

See. That sounds better.

At that moment, there came a knock on the door.

* * *

Feeling quite the opposite, Faramir's head was swirling around like a mixing bowl. He felt so terrible; he thought he was going to be sick. Why was he standing here anyway?

"Captain Faramir?" The Warden asked, slightly surprised. The new title didn't settle his stomach at all, only made him queasier. Something else he stole from his brother.

Mercifully, the Warden had a guess so Faramir didn't have to try to articulate words that made sense. "Here to see the Lady Finwen? She's on house arrest upon the order of the Steward. I'm afraid I'm not allowed to show her to anyone."

"House arrest?" Faramir voiced aloud. What was his father thinking? How could Finwen have anything to do with all of this?

Now more confused than when he first arrived, he had to assume that all of this was a bad idea and these were just further signs that he should leave Finwen be. Without giving more of an answer, Faramir nodded and turned on his heel.

He was surprised to meet a Guard of the Citadel, practically running straight into him at the door.

"Captain Faramir!" The man apologized quickly. "My apologies, sir. I—"

"Beregond." Faramir said, recognizing the man. "What brings you to the Houses so early?"

Beregond smiled warily. He was very loyal to Faramir and he much appreciated it, more than Beregond knew. But this smile of his worried him somewhat. Beregond was nervous to answer – that was rare. "Orders from the Steward, my lord."

Faramir put two and two together. "Concerning the Lady Finwen?"

Surprised his superior guessed right, Beregond confirmed: "Concerning the Lady Finwen, sir. The Lord Denethor has ordered that she be detained in the White Hall. There was no explanation, my lord."

Faramir took him by the shoulder and nodded in thanks. Walking quickly past him, Faramir re-entered the Houses of Healing. The Warden had heard the conversation and felt he could not do much in the matter, watching as Faramir scaled the stairs and Beregond and another guard approaching from the street following behind.

Faramir was quite at a loss of where to go. Beregond surpassed him and led him the rest of the way. He had to come originally to put the chain on Finwen earlier.

Beregond decided to speak up, coming to a halt outside a tall door. "Just following orders, my lord. I didn't think it was right, but — not much I could do, sir."

Taken aback by the preparation, Faramir stepped forward. Because it was a lady's room, he tapped quickly on the door.

"Come in." The familiar voice called.

Faramir was shocked. When the door first opened, everything appeared normal enough. The Lady Finwen was sitting on her bed picking at flowers. Then he noticed the giant, clunking chain attached to her small ankle keeping her prisoner to her bed post.

"My God! Finwen, are you all right?"

"Lord Faramir!" She gasped in surprise, her face reddening.

"What's the meaning of this?" Faramir asked. Instead of ordering his subordinates to do so, he took the key from Beregond and unlocked the shackle himself. "Has my father ordered this?"

"Yes, my lord. Our apologies, my lord." The guard behind Beregond mumbled.

Downcast, Faramir saw the girl wince and start to rub her raw, chafed ankle upon being released. "Finwen, I'm so sorry. I would've come sooner had I known—"

"I'm fine, my lord." Finwen promised.

"How long have you been up here?"

"I… A bit over a day, I suppose." She shrugged, as if this was no interest to her.

Faramir helped her to her feet. Finwen didn't need help walking, but he kept a firm hand on her shoulder anyways. "Come with me."

_Psh, to the ends of the Earth. _She thought, obviously to herself.

* * *

The great doors to the White Hall swung open and Faramir strode inside, Finwen in tow. Feeling they needed to support their captain, Beregond and the unnamed guard followed after the two. House-boys closed the doors and were in the process of setting the table for Denethor's breakfast.

"Chains?" Faramir asked a rather defiant sentence to begin conversation with his father.

"You're going to have to be more specific." Denethor sighed, sitting down before his plate. He looked up and smiled. "Ah! Finwen! I was expecting you."

Finwen glanced sideways at Faramir. The look told him she was nervous – worse than that, she was scared. Of Denethor. He didn't like that look. It was something he was expecting to see for quite some time now, playing his father's pawn for so long, but Faramir still didn't like it on her face. Not at all.

"Why was the Lady Finwen being detained in her room?"

"A misunderstanding. Or rather, a mistake of my own." His father answered easily enough. "Finwen, come sit next to me. Right here."

Without much of a choice, Finwen pulled herself away from Faramir and did as she was told. A plate was set in front of her, but she took no notice. She seemed to be a petite ghost, curling up into herself away from Denethor.

"Shackles are barely an object of warmth to a guest of the White Tower." Faramir remarked.

The Steward ignored him. Picking at a bunch of grapes, he chose a stem and smartly broke it off and tossed it towards his plate. Already, he was reaching for the pheasant.

"Haven't you been long enough? Osgiliath is waiting." Denethor hinted.

Faramir lingered yet, wondering what was going through his father's mind.

Finally Denethor began to lose his patience. He offered a weak explanation: "Circumstances have changed slightly. I believe young Finwen would be best suited under my constant vigilance."

"Why must she be guarded?" They continued to argue as if Finwen wasn't right before them.

"You care exceedingly too much for my Finwen. Your brother's Finwen, I might add."

Faramir paused not a second. "I care as I should."

"I see…" He looked over Faramir knowingly. "She is no longer a concern of yours. Finwen will remain with me."

"I see no danger in—"

"I have." Lord Denethor cut in.

Faramir knew.

It was something neither of them mentioned aloud. It would only cause a greater rift between father and son, but Faramir knew of the ancient palantir that slumbered in Minas Tirith. What more he knew was only what he could guess – his father had looked into the forbidden orb. He had assumed his father had been tapping into it recently, but he did not expect the frequency of his father's use. It was dangerous. And Faramir felt he needed to say so.

"It's a dangerous practice you partake in, Father."

"And where did you hear this? Mithrandir? It's a tool…" Denethor avoided calling his son by name. "A useful asset that must be tapped for this war."

It was useless to argue with his father. Before Faramir could make a retort or think of more to say, Denethor was already off again. "You would do better to listen more and speak less. Where do your loyalties lie? With a wizard? I think not! Back to Osgiliath with you. I no longer wish you in my presence."

Bruised, Faramir bowed and walked unwaveringly out of the hall.


	31. The White Hall Unhinged

**Reminder:: **For the love of God, this still isn't mine. Copyrighting creatively is so hard now. x_x Just know it's not mine.

Not much to say except get ready for the next chapter! Sorry for a long-awaited filler. n_n' I hope the next chapter can ease your pain. xD

Side Note: Lord of the Rings Wiki featured article: Frodo Baggins. Eek! You'd never believe it from the subject I've chosen (concerning those primarily in Gondor (don't get me wrong; I love these guys to death!)) but he's my absolute favorite. Go! Read about him! He's amazing! He's played by Elijah Wood – the greatest male actor ever! Read! Read! Well, after you've read this chapter of course. =3

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-One :: The White Hall Unhinged**

* * *

Wind and voices echoing. Someone holds my hand. A song. A song I recognize.

_Open up my eager eyes…_

My eyelids flutter. White light blinds me, so I close my eyes again. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. My back is stiff. Morphine is dripping slowly, slowly – drip, drip, drip…

The voices turn to static. Mumbling. I cannot understand words. Turn the song back on… bring it back somehow. Bring back the memory – I can almost touch it. Somewhere in my brain, an invisible hand is reaching, reaching, reaching, but it cannot grasp anything but air. So close. So close to recognition. To knowing.

Home?

Never. Something different now. Humming. Tears? Drip, drip, drip like the morphine. Running across my hand. Who has brought me into this melancholy dance?

Thrum, thrum, thrum in my ears – the veins pounding from my heart. Another minute ticks by, and I think I might know.

Name.

* * *

The rhythmical thought process ceased as I was shaken awake with a jolt. Someone was calling out in the middle of the night.

Discreet as I could, I opened my eyes to mere slits. Moonlight glinted into the White Hall through the tall windows like sunshine, pouring out over the bright floor. Speaking to the air, Denethor paced back and forth in his sleep.

I was used to this. The first night it happened, I was terrified of the old man walking about and yelling into nothing. But gradually, I realized that Denethor was actually asleep and not out of his mind. Well… I could not safely say he was not so. Denethor was intelligent and he had a handle on his own emotions quite well. During the day. At night, the old Steward's guard was down and he expelled his thoughts and stresses to the ghosts of his mind. The madness creeping out only when no one would see.

Except me of course. He freely spoke of the despair he held at the forefront of a war he could not win against an enemy so cruel his only wish was to wipe out an entire race; Denethor's race. He cried over his lost son Boromir and feared for his only remaining heir, Faramir. Through these confessions, I would never believe, no matter what could happen that Denethor did not love both his sons. He cursed the weight the rule of Gondor threw on his shoulders as he awaited a king who was cavorting about the land as a filthy ranger – I did not understand what that meant, but it sounded like an insult to me. I was simply astonished that a rightful king of the country was alive. I was under the impression that Minas Tirith was waiting on a long dead line. Then again, this could be Denethor's fancy and completely far from the truth. Still, I doubted.

I closed my eyes, ready to go back to sleep (odd as it may sound, I didn't want to overhear his open thoughts – his mind was vulnerable as he walked in his sleep and I felt like I was rudely eavesdropping on him as it was), when the footsteps stopped suddenly. I looked up and saw Denethor sitting in his chair, his back hunched and his arms gripped tightly ahead of him on the arm rests.

"Finwen."

Thinking he was awake, I guiltily sat up and attempted to feign waking up. I rubbed my eyes and yawned dramatically, looking towards him to make sure he called to me. Sliding my feet into my slippers, I walked softly over to him and curtsied. "My lord?"

Looking up at him, I was stunned to see his eyes glazed and hazy. He was still asleep. Only now, I played a part in his living dreamscape. Somehow he knew I was here, standing before him.

"Tell me why, Finwen. After all I have done for you – a rat from the gutters of Rohan come to my hall as a lady of the court – why have you killed my son?"

Choking on the insult before realizing his question, it would be an understatement to say I was shocked and greatly appalled. What was I supposed to say to that? What the devil was he talking about?

"Tell me how, Finwen. You haven't left the city. The stable-master told me so himself. Your horse hasn't moved. How did you deal the blow to my Boromir, your betrothed?"

There was a long pause as the hair on my neck stood on end and my spine shivered. I waited in icy horror.

Denethor gave a small knowing smile. "Wizard's work, I suppose. Dark magic of the underworld… Tell me where, Finwen. Where did you learn this practice, witching whore?"

This was too strange. I was sick of being left in the dark. I could not encourage this, but I could not let him stop now. I wanted answers. "My lord, you are ill. Your mind is not your own."

At this, his brows furrowed. His mouth sagged angrily into a scowl. "Vixen! I shall not be fooled by your lies any longer! I have seen you in the orb! You have escaped my sight. Somehow. But no more! Under my careful watch… You cannot betray yourself to me! I will be ever-watchful, ever-waiting…" The Lord Denethor nodded in satisfaction. Apparently, I couldn't kill the sons of his I never met if he was constantly supervising me in the White Hall. The 'orb' he mentioned was mystifying enough for me to decide to look into it immediately. It seemed to be poisoning his mind. Specifically, against myself for some reason. Why would I be a target?

The old man was crying in his sleep. Taking quick, panicked gasps, he reached an all time low in the most pathetic form I had seen him in yet. He reached out for me blindly, not able to see me in his dreams. "Here, I will keep you safe… So like a daughter you are, dear Finwen. …Finduilas! My love, she looks so much as thee. Daughter bereft of our house… Evil whispers tempt thee away… I pray they will be lies before the end…"

I held out my hand, about to grab his, but I quickly decided against it and recoiled, stepping backwards. What if he would wake?

Even after all the insults I had suffered through, it's amazing how a few short sentences could so easily warm my heart. Whatever he thought I was, he didn't want to believe it. I knew now Denethor truly loved me. He was the most conflicted father I could ever have, but I wanted him as my father none the less. Only Beleg could care for me the same.

I felt strangely accepted. I hoped I could help the Steward somehow in this time of pain. I went back to my cot and stripped it of its blankets. Huddling myself up in front of his diminutive throne, I curled up on the floor and waited for him to fall asleep. I would be there for him. Like his loyal soldiers, so many swore the oath, I whispered the promise to him.

"Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor, and to the Lord and Steward of the realm, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying, from this hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me, or the world end…"

The unmistakable neigh of a Mearas rang across the hills.


	32. The White Wizard

**Reminder:: **So utterly and completely not mine. I don't really want to take claim to Finwen at the moment, but I suppose it's a must. She's kind of grown on me.

Whoo-hoo! Over fifty reviews and a scroll bar for the chapters. We're making progress! Thanks so much everyone!

If you don't get this by the title, I might have to slap you with a fish. Eh, not really. But seriously, are you all there? Ah, just read the chapter! Read, friends, read! 'Tis an enjoyable thing. n_n

You may notice I've tried a different writing style of mine in the first part of this chapter. The voice is going to be very different from the usual, but I hope you enjoy it none the less. Must be the mood I'm in. If you like this writing style better, I might stick with it for the rest of the work. Although, I miss being behind Finwen's eyes. Well, think about that and if I could get some feedback on third versus first person, that would be great. =)

Happy birthday, Gandalf the White! Although it's written by Shire-reckoning so there's about a two week window, this is the date: February the 14th, that Gandalf rose after his plight with the balrog. Impeccable timing, no?

Note: Word automatically capitalizes 'Halfling,' so sorry for any confusion associated with.

In other news; Happy Valentine's! For the love of the rings, I spend my holiday with you. =3

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Two :: The White Wizard**

* * *

The clip of hooves against cobblestone filled the ears of everyone in the city of Minas Tirith. Children sprang out of the way, women leaned out their windows, and men idly examined the face of the man upon the steed.

To Finwen's near-surprise, Denethor seemed to be expecting this. He had shed his mourning like a cloak and was wearing a mask of insincerity and pride today. She sat in one of the dining chairs brought for breakfast, watching his face and waiting for the door.

When she became impatient, Finwen marched to the great door Denethor held so intently in his gaze. The people outside were scrambling and the steady thrum of the horse approaching could be heard from what felt like miles away. Now that she knew better, the slowing of the hooves meant the seventh level. No horses were allowed in the Citadel. When the beat came to a halt, she knew they were coming on foot.

Who, she could not be sure. Why, she had no idea. But anxious was she, lady in waiting, as the unexpected pair scaled the stairs beneath her and mounted into the courtyard.

Leaning against the door to listen, Finwen heard voices fast approaching. The man in question had a deep baritone that seemed critical to his companion. "If you have walked all these days with closed ears and mind asleep, wake up now!" The soft quipping, she soon realized too late, was just beyond her barrier.

A resounding knock battered her ear drum and the girl recoiled. Taking places opposite her, guards opened the great doors, brushing poor Finwen along with them. Striding in with great haste came a very tall man dressed all in white with a gleaming staff. In further contrast, a boy barely to the man's waist came running in after him.

Finwen peered past the man who opened the right side of the door and watched them. The small one she found humorous and queer, a wonder really, that a boy should travel with a man of such seeming importance. He gawked at the statues and the height of the ceiling, much as Finwen had once stared at the White Hall. It was a shame that she had gotten so used to its beauty.

"Hail, Lord and Steward of Minas Tirith, Denethor son of Ecthelion! I am come with counsel and tidings in this dark hour."

The voice belonged to the scolding one on the stoop. The tall man with the staff. Denethor was holding a staff of white with a golden top. It was one that Finwen rarely saw – a ceremonial possession it seemed. She recalled now he had it at Yuletide, but she had never noted its simple beauty.

Denethor watched the two in front of him with a sardonic expression, cold as the stone around him. Finwen crept out of the door and made her way, almost feral-like, back to the front of the hall. She wished not to be seen to disturb their conversation, but most of all she wished to wait and to listen. Finwen might learn much. Stepping behind a thick marble column, she watched.

Finwen's presence might have been that of a ghost. It went unheeded though the wizard knew perfectly well she was there and checked his counsel.

"Dark indeed is the hour and at such times you are wont to come, Mithrandir."

* * *

I couldn't believe it. _This was the wizard? The wizard Faramir told me so much about? This… Gandalf? I thought he was the Grey…?_

The Lord Denethor continued without a pause, leaving me little time to collect my thoughts. His diction was formal and calculated; something he never cared to use when I was about. I felt somewhat glad he was casual when I was present. "But though all the signs forebode the doom of Gondor is drawing nigh, less now to me is that darkness than my own darkness. It has been told to me that you bring with you one who saw my son die. Is this he?"

This startled me. I had been with Denethor this entire time, save for his visits to his tower. No one had brought any news of Boromir. _The orb…!_

"It is," replied the one known as Mithrandir. Somewhere in his unreadable eyes, I could feel he felt the same as me. We both knew about the orb. "One of the twain. The other is with Théoden of Rohan and may come hereafter. Halflings they are, as you see, yet this is not he of whom the omens spoke."

_A Halfling? What on Earth does that mean?_

Now that I was facing the smaller one, I could make up my own definition of Halfling. He was not old, but he was certainly not the boy I took him to be when I saw him from behind. He was… a miniature man, I wanted to say, but that is an injustice. His hair was curled from head to toe – quite literally on bulbous feet – and his mannerisms decried his ignorance, nervousness, and light humility. I admired him from afar, trying to dream up a world where there was more than one of these strange creatures.

I had missed some conversation in my idling of Halflings, but my ears were open enough to take note of Faramir. It was Denethor speaking. "Faramir should have gone in his stead."

"He would have gone. Be not unjust in your grief! Boromir claimed the errand and would not suffer any other to have it." The wizard said.

I did a mini victory dance. This was the first time I had seen someone openly stand up against Denethor on Faramir's behalf. I liked this Mithrandir already.

"But you speak of his death. You have had news of that ere we came?"

Denethor went on to show him the cloven horn that had been resting on his lap at all times. I was almost surprised to see him lift it – it had become an appendage of sorts to his robes. I had half a mind to think he had it sewn to himself.

I had missed more of the talk again and the Halfling was given a chance to speak. Denethor was not challenging him, per say, but baiting him to speak more of his beloved Boromir. If the Halfling knew Boromir, then I say Denethor had the right to interrogate all he pleased. Had it not been for the impatient air of the wizard who wished to speak of more trying matters.

"Thirteen, thirteen days. Yes, I think that would be so." The Halfling's surprisingly normal voice stated. I had assumed his voice would be as tiny as he was. What marvelous creatures! His reference to the thirteen immediately drew recognition to mind. We, the city, had heard Boromir's call as well. "Yes, I stood beside him, as he blew the horn. But no help came. Only more orcs."

Fear instilled within me. Orcs. I had not heard tell of them since Osgiliath and before that – my days in Rohan. My heart ached with pain and hatred when I heard their race breathed aloud.

"Tell me more! Why did no help come?"

"The mightiest man may be slain by one arrow and Boromir was pierced by many." So that is what had become of my betrothed. Although I did not know him, the small Halfling's presentation of my late groom made me sorrowful to have missed such a warrior and a friend.

The Halfling had finished his tale and was full of pride and honor as he stood before the Steward of Gondor. "Little service, no doubt, will so great a lord of Men think to find in a hobbit, a halfling from the northern Shire; yet such as it is, I will offer it, in payment of my debt."

I held a hand over my mouth in affection for the presentation of his small sword to the Lord Denethor. This little half – no, he had said – hobbit, was a being of great courage and valor. I was honored to witness such a display. Denethor seemed glad of it, too.

Taking up the sword, Denethor accepted the service. "Swear to me now!"

"Take up the hilts and speak after the Lord, if you are resolved on this." Mithrandir instructed.

"I am." The hobbit nodded surely.

I listened, now feeling bashful to be present, as the hobbit named Peregrin son of Paladin recited the oath I had taken myself only last night under the moon.

This delighted Denethor, who was a very good actor I could see, and he had chairs and food and drink brought out for them. I was not insulted I had been forgotten, but I felt privileged instead. Denethor knew I was behind the pillar just as much as Mithrandir knew. Incredible how they could keep from saying things and yet still say so much to each other.

The Steward was so enthused to hear tell from the hobbit that he had practically snubbed Gandalf. This was not to go unheeded as assumed. "—there is much else to heed. Much more import, it may seem, and yet to me less pressing. But maybe we can speak again at the end of the day."

The wizard looked slightly insulted. He was obviously pressed for time and the one who claimed to be so was most assuredly not. "And earlier, it is to be hoped. For I have not ridden from Isengard, one hundred and fifty leagues, with the speed of wind, only to bring you one small warrior, however courteous. Is it naught to you that Théoden has fought a great battle, and that Isengard is overthrown, and that I have broken the staff of Saruman?"

_Hell, that sounded like news!_

Now incredibly disturbed that I was allowed to hear all of this, Denethor let this comment slide as uninteresting. …Or he already knew these things. Must have been the latter.

"Yea, for though the Stones be lost, they say, still the lords of Gondor have keener sight than lesser men, and many messages come to them. But sit now! Finwen!"

I was too shocked that Denethor was openly rubbing the strange orb I thought so secret in their faces to hear my name. Mostly Mithrandir's face, might I add. Then I realized the hobbit Peregrin turned to me for the first time in surprise and all three looked upon me now from my hiding spot behind the pillar of stone. I stepped out sheepishly, feeling guilty and uncomfortable.

"Finwen, come now and sit with your father and his guests. A chair will be brought for you as well. Come hear the story of Boromir." Denethor motioned beside his blackened throne.

Tingling, I marveled at the prestige he had given me. _Father! Father he had said!_ I sat numbly in the chair brought beside him and tried to look sweet and innocent and plaintively stupid as girls are supposed to be.

"We both know two sons are your fortune. Whence has a daughter arrived?" The wizard asked.

Denethor shook his head. "Finwen's tale is long and for another day. Come! Tell me of my son!"

Mithrandir took me into account with a short gaze and went back to eying Denethor. Mystified, I listened and took steady sips from the cup given me. Peregrin went on for his promised hour, relating the events of himself and a company including Gandalf that had left with Boromir from some elven place. I did not have to feign ignorance – I simply was. So I smiled and refused cake and remained for the remainder of Peregrin's story. It truly sounded like a story, though he was often vague in the parts I found interesting. Denethor would ask questions every now and again, prompting the hobbit to say more, but he never received much of an answer. Peregrin had been told to 'wake up' after all. He was trying to be careful, too.

As the plate of cakes cleared, mostly at the hobbit's quick hand, the supposed counsel ceased and Denethor had the servants take all the empty platters away. This time, I was not so welcome to listen to Mithrandir and the Steward speak, and he instructed me to clear the cups like a servant girl. I didn't mind of course, but I was disappointed I missed the rest of their counsel.

When I re-entered the room, Mithrandir was in the middle of a heated monologue. "But all worthy things that are in peril as the world now stands, those are my care. And for my part, I shall not wholly fail of my task, though Gondor should perish, if anything passes thorough this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit and flower again in days to come. For I also am a steward. Did you not know?"

The wizard and the hobbit exited the White Hall without another word. Peregrin turned once to glance back and was greeted by a contemplative Denethor and myself biting my lip. He ran after Mithrandir and the doors closed behind them.

The Steward kept to himself and took no notice of me, so I raced after them and threw the doors open, following them out. "Wait!"

The fresh air hit me like a brick. March 9th and I had spent far too long brewing in the White Hall. No wonder Denethor was so cold; he resembled the statues that surrounded him all his life.

Frivolous it seemed now that I was so close, but Faramir had told me Mithrandir may know more of me. He might help. I was insignificant and small, but I felt I still may play a role, one that I did not know myself. Faramir trusted Mithrandir. And I trusted Faramir's word. I could trust the wizard, too.

Of course, this little outburst came as a surprise to Peregrin who quickly stopped and turned around. Mithrandir was not one to simply whirl about – he seemed to already be waiting for me, leaning on his staff. Was I so predictable? No – I was just before an extraordinary person. That didn't help my nerves much.

"I… Sorry." I lamely began.

I was not given a response. The wizard and the hobbit stared at me, making me feel out of place.

Diving right in, I said: "P-Pallando. And Alatar. I knew them."

Peregrin looked to Mithrandir who was watching my face. "How the world holds its surprises; I will never understand."

I furrowed my brow. _What?_

Peregrin was looking at me now with wide eyes and a slightly gaping mouth. "She?"

The wizard Gandalf nodded.

Leaving me staring back, the two were escorted by some of the guards of the Citadel to the place where they had promised lodgings.

Well… that didn't go as planned.


	33. Concerning Hobbits

**Reminder:: **_The Lord of the Rings_ and all affiliates associated there and forthwith are of no ownership of mine.

Wow! Here we are! My favorite song as a chapter title to boot! n_n

Hold onto your hats folks – if it wasn't weirding you out before, it will now. This is where you get a glimpse of my major plot line. Do remember though that I'm a huge Tolkiendil/ist/ite so I refuse to shred his story so rashly. Though I may do so in the future (heh, hypocrisy), this is my hardcore fan fiction where whatever he wrote stays the same. Finwen is simply not mentioned. Simple, oui? =3 But the things I have added are very different. I found a loophole Tolkien never elaborated on and caught it – twisting it to my liking. Hopefully you guys won't be scared off by this necessary chapter of weird to miss out what I've done. xD

It also seems I've been following a false calendar. Curse online resources! Always check the book – always doubt. It seems I've added an extra day between the meeting with Denethor and Faramir's eventual return. Sorry! Please forgive me. x_x

What's in store? Find out for yourselves and keep up with me! =D

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Three :: Concerning Hobbits**

* * *

The next morning, it was not too difficult to get out of the White Hall. The Lord Denethor had taken on a completely new and stronger persona – that of a man planning for war. I easily slipped out the servant's quarters and made my way around the citadel.

So suddenly it seems that we have been on the brink and have been pushed off the edge. It's almost unexpected, really. So long the city has waited for war, expected it, but now that it's at our doorstep…? It's too much to handle. People are scrambling everywhere. It's almost a chant we know: "War has come! Mithrandir is here!"

Of course, this being said, the White Wizard was more than hard to come by. He would have no time for silly girls like myself with questions and perhaps a few mundane answers. I had to go for the second best thing.

The serving woman told me 'the short fellow' was off with Beregond. I didn't know Beregond well, but I remembered he was one of the men I curtsied to at Yuletide. That wasn't saying much considering I had curtsied so much those six days I thought my knees wouldn't bend back up. Besides, Faramir was more than a bit distracting, so I would be surprised if I could remember Beregond's face.

_Enough of these thoughts! They're perverted. Do remember you're engaged to his brother. Dead or alive, there will always be the rift._ That made me ache. I didn't like thinking of that either.

A young girl alone in the citadel was enough to catch the attention of a few guards. I told them I was looking for Beregond. He's out on business. Then what of the Hobbit? What? The Halfling? Oh, he's with Bergil, son of Beregond. Where are they? About. Lovely.

I was forced to wait in the room Peregrin son of Paladin called home with the wizard. If he would return by some miracle with time for a talk, perhaps he could help me.

Although it was midday when I took my seat on one of the only chairs available in the little room, dusk approached and still there was no sign of the Hobbit. I grew anxious and paced about. From the window, I could hear cries for 'Forlong' and loud trumpets. The reinforcements were already here. Less than three thousand strong – not nearly enough. How long had Denethor been planning all of this? I had never seen him do much business, but I had to believe I was simply too ignorant to notice what was on the papers he wrote.

When it finally became night and I had lit a lantern to keep the dark away, I felt I should retreat and try again some other day. But after all the waiting… He must return at some point.

And he so unexpectedly did so a few moments later. The surprise of the sudden pull of the door set me on my feet. Closing the door behind him, still not noticing me, the little Hobbit unfastened his grey cloak and turned about. He dropped it in surprise when his eyes met mine.

"Hullo there! The Lady Finwen?"

"Master Peregrin, I'm sorry for the informality in the way I've come to you. I hope you can forgive me."

By his quick appraisal, I figured he took me to not be as stupid or short-sighted as he remembered. He hung up his cloak, fleetingly searching the room for something to look at other than myself. "Forgive you? There's been a misunderstanding! Here – sit down."

He motioned for me to sit in the chair I had been ruminating in all day and he pulled up one besides. Small Peregrin was obviously quite nervous about me, but I could say the same. I was so worried that I might be offending one of the great leaders of the north. I hope I wasn't setting a bad example for Men.

"I'm so sorry to come to you like this. I know there was no way I could see Mithrandir, so I had to come to the next best counsel."

Peregrin puffed out his chest a bit, flattered at the obvious fact in my mind. "Mithrandir? You mean you want to speak to Gandalf? I don't know how I can help – I'm not very big or worldly, as you can see – but I'll do my best, lady."

I smiled at him, glad for his sincerity and kindness. At this inopportune moment, my stomach growled from not being fed today since breakfast time. Peregrin immediately noticed this and offered to find me something to eat.

"No, no – there are more pressing matters than my hunger."

"I'm afraid I'll have to be begging your pardon – nothing's more pressing than an empty stomach." He shook his curly head at me.

I laughed and refused. "I can eat later – please. I just want to know… what I think I should."

Peregrin settled at that, still a bit put out there would be no food involved in this conversation.

I cut right to the chase. "How much do you know about the power of wizards?"

The confused look I received gave me my answer. I let out a sad sigh.

"I'm sorry, my lady… I—"

"It's quite alright. It was just something weighing on my mind for awhile. I… pray for the life and safety of old friends. They were the first to help me and I left them when the night was at its darkest."

There was a long pause. "If it means anything to you, lady – we all thought Gandalf had fallen. But he bounced right back! I'm sure they did, too."

I couldn't help but laugh. "You are very kind. Certainly not what I would expect from the Prince of the Halflings. Tell me – is the Shire a realm of kings? Or do nobles govern your city?"

Master Peregrin actually laughed. "Unless there have been renovations, there are no cities in the Shire. There are no kings or lords of realms such as these… It's simple and small like its folk. I miss it. Every day."

I felt bad for making him homesick. Trying to change the subject, I asked him some questions about his journey he shared with my betrothed. He welcomed the subject easily, but to my surprise, he really had no trouble at all speaking of the Shire. In fact, he was most glad I was such an avid listener. He told me about their farms and fields and homes. They smoked strange weeds and brewed fine ale in their cellars and hosted parties with enough food to feed all of Minas Tirith for weeks. Much of it was too vague and rapidly said for me to comprehend, but I follow along with Peregrin's ramblings.

After an hour of this, he seemed to remember I had some pressing matters to attend to and slowed his speech. "Which reminds me – I should start correcting people that I am not a prince. It's flattering though, so it's not so bad to hear… What would Merry say when he hears!" He laughed, speaking of his childhood friend I had already heard so much about. "But you! Big Folk have lots to say about you, Lady Finwen."

This startled me. "Me?"

"Yes, o' course you! …What? You don't know?"

Staring at him blankly wasn't enough of a hint. "Do you mean people outside of Minas Tirith? They know me?" I was quite used to people talking about me here – hell, I would talk, too. I'm odd. My situation is odd. It's odd enough to talk about. But… how would Peregrin know that?

"Sure! The prophets won't stop telling the story. Swarming Edoras – that's how Gandalf knows about you. I heard tell through him." Peregrin explained.

I patiently waited for him to elaborate, slightly annoyed at the ambiguity.

"Well, if you don't know your own story, then so be it. I shouldn't ask it of you, lady. But the prophets—"

"You say prophets. Whence have they come?"

"East." Peregrin shrugged, for once saying something shortly. "Apparently, you're quite the celebrity. Though they never mentioned your gender by the look on Gandalf's face yestereve."

I scooted up closer and sat on the edge of my chair. "Please – tell me everything you know."

Of course he found this strange, but he pacified my worry. "Prophets – they call themselves but they're Easterlings – are coming out of the East talking about some Eru sent saviour come to save the peoples from Sauron. That's about as much of it as I've been told, Lady Finwen. Lots of big terms, you know. All I know is that you must be the one they're calling Messiah."

"What? Me? …! How do you know for sure it's me?"

Peregrin was pressured and didn't know what to say. "Gandalf said that the Messiah knew the blue wizards. I guess most of the prophets knew you."

Survivors? From the camp in the East? I… I had no idea… They must've taken what horses they had and fled… Alatar! Pallando! They must've seen the tent burned to the ground without me inside and – and, when Alatar threw me into the other tent to hide me and I wasn't there when he returned – they thought I was… Dear, God – they're alive!

My hands were shaking from the news. The weight of their death was lifted from my shoulders like a heavy pack taken off the load. I had thought they were dead as they thought I was dead. No one was about because… it makes sense now!

I voiced my one puzzlement aloud. "But why do they think I live…?"

Peregrin nodded like he knew the answer to this one. "Gandalf said Mordor is looking for you. The prophets said it's a sign you're still alive."

Prophets? Messiah? Looking for me! "But what can I do? I'm no Messiah! I'm just a girl!"

Peregrin looked doubtful. There really wasn't an answer to this question. None that he could give anyways. I tried to calm myself, but there was just too much on my mind to just ease it away passively. I felt like I was about to hyperventilate.

Finding I was standing, I quickly nodded to the Hobbit. "Thank you, Master Peregrin. For everything. I'll leave you now – sorry."

Leaving him on such short notice didn't give him a chance to say anything in return. I closed the door behind me and tried to regain my breath. Messiah! Me!


	34. One Weakness

**Reminder:: **No copyright infringement intended.

Alright here we go! Things are speeding up now. Whoo! n_n

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Four :: One Weakness**

* * *

The women had left the city.

At first, I was rather insulted I had not been asked to go, but I realized I would've made it difficult for anyone who wanted me gone. There was no way I was going to be carted away with the maids and the children not fit to fight. Though… I couldn't see how I would be of much help. I just longed to be a comfort to my lord.

And I wouldn't leave until I knew Faramir would be all right.

Of course, it was a fool's hope to think anyone may make it through this war. But I was determined enough to believe in survival. I also was too scared to think of death and hope was a delightfully bliss alternative.

From the courtyard of the citadel, I had watched from hundreds of meters above as the mass exodus left the last level and moved towards Rammas Echor. The last needed to leave for Lebennin immediately so the walls could be barricaded behind them. All the frowning ladies of the court were already leagues away. These were the last of who could be spared to leave. Taurwen and Ioreth were the only women left in the city that I knew and they were only allowed to stay because of their work in the Houses of Healing. I hadn't seen them in ages, stuck up here. I missed Ioreth terribly. It felt like I was in foster care.

I wanted so badly to ask Denethor about all this prophets and Messiah nonsense the hobbit was telling me yesterday, but I was much too frightened to ask. Besides – everyone was so busy, I was quite over-looked. Understandably of course! But… still…

This felt like something that shouldn't be easily ignored.

Instead of meandering through the White Hall, interrupting Denethor's war councils, I remained outside the doors for the day. There was a constant twilight. Morning had never seemed to rise and the sun never progressed across the sky. There was a dreary, foreboding cloud cover. Lightning flashed through the clouds in the East and they were burned red from the fires beyond the mountains.

I hugged my shoulders from the chill. The clothes offered me were very beautiful, but hardly practical. The cloth was too thin so the wind always sliced through to my skin and the all too often trains always tripped me up. But I could not deny – I had never been better clothed in my life. The dress I wore today was completely white. It felt like I was an iguana, blending in with the stone slabs of marble. The train on this dress wasn't so bad; it was about an arm's length long. The sleeves though were absolutely terrible. They were made of scratchy lace that itched from my shoulder to my wrist. My arms were freezing.

After all the hours I had walked about the courtyard, thinking about stupid things like dresses and Faramir, I had quite exhausted my feminine fears and it must've been nearly sundown. The lone, withered tree in the courtyard was the only thing left to look at, and call it blaspheme, but it was rather ugly. I know the people of Minas Tirith treasured this plant, but I couldn't understand why. I had never heard its story, but it looked more statue-like to me after being so long dead. It was probably petrified.

Contemplating going inside and at least asking for a shawl or something, a terrible scream wrought the air. This wasn't a normal cry – it wasn't relatable to any animal I had ever heard but it was certainly from a beast. The sound was that of crunching metal, tearing, searing, twisting, bending, wrapping, crushing, pressurepressurepressure—

I hadn't realized I had sat on the cold ground. Images of people and places I didn't know were flashing through my mind like a wild picture show and a girl's familiar scream rang in my mind. Another piece to the puzzle of me – the scream. The cry of the beast was similar to the last thing I had heard; metal.

The screaming did not stop. There must have been multiple creatures. But in their intake of breath, I could hear, and practically feel, the vibrations of heavy hooves. There was a frightened whinny.

I picked myself up and sprinted like a madman across the courtyard. Throwing my arms out to stop myself from jumping off the open edge, I stopped and looked out over the plain. Riding back from Osgiliath, just passing through Rammas Echor, rode a very small company of dark shapes. I strained my eyes to see them in the low light, but my ears caught what I was looking for instead. The long call of a horn rose considerably and then died.

It was Faramir's call.

Though the horn wasn't nearly as precious as the Lord Boromir's, it was recognized universally throughout the City. The captain was returned.

The dark beasts with the echoing cries were flying just above Minas Tirith, circling dangerously close before they targeted the riders. They were black, horrifying snake-like bats with riders cloaked in shadows. My heart clenched as I watched the terrible spectacle from above. Faramir and his men fighting for life. They must make the Gate!

Completely helpless, I watched from afar as the beasts swooped low over the four or five men racing across the Pelennor. All had lost their horses save one, who circled back to regroup his people. Men ran towards the Gate on foot, their horses gone mad to save themselves. Faramir kept pace, refusing to lose a single man as the creatures of the air dropped their hooked claws on them.

When I thought this was going to be my last glimpse of the Lord Faramir, an enormous white light shot through the dark. Riding swiftly from the City was the White Wizard, Mithrandir, with his palm facing the sky. The light was emanating from him, making the beasts scream and wail, already on the retreat. My heart grew light as Mithrandir slowed and took pace with the company he just rescued, leaving my sight as they made their way for the Gate.

Ecstatic, I turned and found I was not alone in the courtyard. Dozens of men and guards had gathered to watch the rescue and were already lining up to greet those who were spared. Cheers of Faramir's name erupted throughout Minas Tirith, reaching an exploding crescendo when the company appeared in the courtyard. I couldn't exactly shove my way through the crowd, but I easily found Master Peregrin in a small gap. It wasn't hard to stand nearby, close enough to see those passing by.

The Steward appeared on the steps of the White Hall. He looked out over the people and saw with distaste that his son was the object of interest. Those offering him counsel inside the hall were taken off guard by the arrival and were speechless, staring stupidly at the back of Denethor as his mind raced.

Faramir was already with Mithrandir, speaking low next to Peregrin. I went unnoticed, but I heard enough that they were to meet with Denethor. Perhaps I could weed my way into their counsel…

Faramir was accepted into the hall with the wizard and the hobbit. I went around the long way, taking the servant's door, and realized they would not take counsel in the White Hall. Instead, the men marched right through as Denethor dismissed his council and opened a side door to one of his private chambers. There was a servant's stair that connected around the back I may be able to use, but I doubted I would go unnoticed. And what with all these strange rumors flying about, maybe it was better if I did not gather anymore strange stories.

The White Hall was empty of all persons and relatively dark. I sat outside the door I saw Peregrin disappear behind and waited. I could not make out what the voices were saying within.

The room became darker. A servant boy, one of the last, hurried around the room lighting torches. He dismissed me as being irregular but did not ask me questions as to why I was lying on the floor against the wall. Probably looked like I succumbed to despair or something.

I closed my eyes, lying on my arms that had fallen asleep long ago. I curled my legs up underneath me, trying to find warmth in the folds of my dress. It sounded odd, but close to the door listening to the voices, I could pick out who was speaking for the most part. Mithrandir spoke very little, but his voice was always the calmest in the room, low and soft. Denethor's voice was sharp and quick, parrying with questions and grudgingly shrugging off answers. Peregrin didn't speak at all. Faramir's voice was… sad. I expected it to be tired – I would be weary if I was he, but the way he spoke was slow and careful. I wondered why I never noticed it before.

I started to doze off to the thrum of his voice when Denethor's rose a few decibels. Mithrandir's voice began and the two older men debated for a time. Before I was prepared, the door opened and the hobbit stepped out, shuffled along by the wizard. Mithrandir saw me, I had at least sat up now, but I must've looked suspicious. Peregrin stared down at me, too, and I felt guilty.

Faramir closed the door behind him and interrupted the awkward silence. Surprised to see me, he knelt down to my level. I couldn't help but be reminded of the day I met him. "Finwen! What are you doing on the floor?"

"I…" I paused with an intake of breath. Mithrandir smiled and motioned the hobbit along and the pair's footsteps echoed down and out of the hall. "I am glad to see you safe."

The Lord Faramir quickly helped me to my feet by taking up my arms and lifting me, chiding me for waiting and sitting on the floor in a heap. "The hour is late. Off to bed with you."

"But-!" I protested. "But what of the battle? Have things gone ill? Will all the men return to the City?"

Faramir frowned. "No. I must go out to meet them."

"What? You've only just arrived!"

"Fin—"

"How long have you until you must leave?"

"The Council will meet in the morning to decide where I must go." He explained patiently.

"Then there's still a chance you may stay?" It inadvertently came out as a question. The both of us suddenly realized we were holding each other's arms still from when I needed help getting up and abruptly let go. I smoothed out my dress idly, thinking things through.

Faramir smiled, pacifying my worries with avoidance. "There is nothing to fear, young Finwen. My only wish now is that you left the City with the others."

"I couldn't leave when I didn't know if—" I stopped myself. Redirecting my point, I started again. "You are not expecting to leave, are you?"

"I will have my men ready before midday if I must." He answered almost infuriately casual.

"You can't! It's madness!"

Turning, Faramir started to walk away. "I refuse to argue with you, Finwen."

I took a few brave paces forward and matched his stride. "You cannot go back. I don't know about you, but I saw those… those winged serpents! You narrowly made it here alive!"

Stopping just before the great doors, Faramir turned back to me. The torchlight made silhouettes of everything dance around the room. The place was filled with orange firelight. It made my dress look a yellowish red along with my light hair that hadn't been styled since the women who used to be able to make it look nice left. I tried to look him in the eyes, hold my ground, but his gaze was stronger than mine. I looked down.

"My loyalty lies here. What do you expect of me to do?"

I had lost everyone. Alatar, Pallando, Wolfling, Linius, Beleg, Huan, Boromir, and the family I couldn't remember. I had been separated from Ioreth, Taurwen, Tristed, Benold, Mordred, and my steed Alatar. Now Faramir was about to fall into the category I would never see again. And it made me feel alone. And scared. And very small. Tears were rolling out the sides of my eyes before I had half a mind to speak up. "You'll… die."

Faramir wasn't so heartless as to stand there and let me cry for him. His hand cupped my face in a comforting gesture and I put my hand up to hold it there. Blood was pumping through my veins so fast, I was glad for the light to hide my reddening face.

I looked up. His eyes were gentle and full of sorrow. It was easy to pity the situation – everything was such a mess. I knew at this moment that all my silly fancies were true. I didn't want him to leave. _Ever_. And I was scared again. How could a man's one weakness – his single flaw – be his solid loyalty? Loyalty would kill him. I wanted him to stop following orders and start listening to logic. I wanted him to be happy again. I wanted to take the weight of his brother's death from his shoulders – most of it I put there myself. I wanted to badly to know him, but I was like the Midas of emotions. Everything I touched crumbled to ash. Guised in plates of gold, it would disintegrate like everything else. Eventually. And that would be tomorrow when Faramir would leave to face his death.

Fear suddenly replacing my anger and despair thriving into embarrassment at the display I was making, I started backing up rapidly. I opened my mouth to speak, but found no logical word; I turned on my heel and sped from the hall.


	35. Waiting

**Reminder:: **This is under copyright. Nothing of mine is under said copyright.

Took a bit longer than I would have liked. x_x

But I hope this comes as a happy surprise to you! I hope to get to chapter thirty-eight. This week. Delightful!

Following by the direct dating system found in Appendix B, today is the day that Minas Tirith is besieged and the Battle of the Pelennor Fields commences. The Ides of March! Exciting, right? Celebrate by chopping off the head of your nearest fell beast. It's not recommended that you light yourself on fire and cast yourself off the gable of your home. Not cool. Pun intended.

Well, enough of that! This is the first of my sporadic updating sequence. I'll have to tell you now that I adore Billy Boyd and much of the Pippin I write is designed with him in mind. So he gets to keep a few things that are not canon to the book. Hope you enjoy. =3

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Five :: Waiting**

* * *

_I'm such a fool._

The fields below were too quiet. Muscles tensed; nearly everyone in the city was waiting. Waiting on the brink. Our eyes were moist and our hearts were heavy. The hope Faramir had brought was leaving with him.

_And I ran away._

How stupid could I possibly be? I let my girlish timidity frighten me away. Hell, the gesture was nothing short of kind and comforting – it wasn't like he was desperately in love with me or something.

_But I was._

And I had ruined the last moment I would have with him. Possibly forever. The council met as promised this morning, but before a soul stepped into the room, they knew where Faramir was going. And it wasn't to the wall. He was going to the garrisons. The Lord Denethor was adamant – he didn't stand a chance.

I let my arms fall from my chin and leaned on my elbows on the cold sill. Of course, I wasn't allowed anywhere below the courtyard, but I had managed to find a servant's stair that got me a level lower. If I was caught I'd be thrown into the miserable White Hall until the orcs came for me and killed me there.

This war wasn't something to be won. It was a display. It was a show of how well you could gracefully die. Where would you be? Who would be the last person you were to see? What would you be doing? Would you die the death of a hero saving his men? Would you die the death of a coward trying to flee the horror? Would you be cheated and die without a second thought, without a last word; struck by a stray arrow that missed its target? Would you die the death of a poet and if there were but minstrels still around to sing your song, it would be sung throughout the centuries for its valor, simplicity, and honor? Would you die alone?

My fate was increasingly looking like the latter. Unless Denethor somehow magically wanted me around. Seemed logical enough. If I looked so much like his wife, maybe he would want to see me and pretend I was she before he closed his eyes. I doubted that we would get that sort of luxury though. The more I thought about it, the more my stomach turned as I thought of a poisoned orc blade gutting me, plunging through my innards in hot misery. God, I'm morbid for a little girl.

_That's all I really was though._ I thought, looking down at Faramir. Mithrandir was with him. Still trying to convince him to do otherwise. Really, though, Denethor had made a convincing debate. Even the Prince agreed that the defenses were weak. Though he hadn't suggested throwing Faramir into the tide of them.

Mithrandir was kind, but his words went unheeded. Faramir was busy rallying as many men as could be spared to depart. He would leave within the hour.

Faramir straddled his horse and looked back at the walls of the upper city before making his way to the Gate. His eyes scanned the walls for a moment – I half-expected him to see me – but the moment did not last and he turned away.

* * *

Ironically, the days were starting to pass quickly. Faster than as of late anyways. It had already been a day since Faramir left across the Pelennor. It's like time sped up once we wanted it to slow and vice versa. Rumors of Rohan dwindled with every hour. The chance they would come to rescue us was too slim to count on.

There was a positive side though – maybe they could survive. They could escape somehow. Gondor would dutifully stand against the wrath of Mordor as it always had and give Rohan, the last free men of Middle-Earth, time to escape to live another day, another lifetime.

Still, rather doubtful. Mordor's power would have grown enough by then after swallowing Gondor to track down the people of Rohan and devour them as well.

I felt so numb. Numb to everything in the world. Someone could have punched me in the face and I would have shrugged. To hell with it all. Let's get this over with.

And then Denethor had the hobbit sing.

Peregrin was a bundle of nerves. He wasn't accustomed to living in such a terrible atmosphere on rationed food. The food was new, but the atmosphere was stale in my memory. I was one of the many long faces to add to the list of despair in the city. Mithrandir was the only one who seemed to want to get anything done. Without the Prince of Dol Amroth's persuasion, the soldiers would have given up and ignored the wizard long ago. I was glad they were both here.

Poor Peregrin shouldn't have been forced into such a silly request. But he stood his ground as the Steward took his dinner. And I stood facing one of the many statues of long forgotten kings.

"Home is behind…" He began in a small, timid voice. "The world ahead… And there are many paths to tread."

I turned to face him. Peregrin's young voice rose in both clarity and strength. "Through shadow. To the edge of night. Until the stars are all alight…"

The Lord Denethor paid him little heed.

"Mist and shadow… Cloud and shade…"

Tears sprung to my eyes.

"All shall fade…"

Death of the City. Death of Men.

"All shall…"

Death of us all.

"Fade."

The ephemeral hymn ceased as abruptly as it had started. I wanted to say so many things. 'That was beautiful!' 'Sing it again.' 'You're very talented.' But instead I found my feet carrying me towards the door. I was starting to blubber and I wasn't about to lose it in front of a couple of the strongest men I had ever met.

I shut the great doors behind me without the help of the servants who were still positioned there, idly lost by the song. I held my hands to my face to control my breathing. My face was hot and wet. I hated crying. It was so messy.

Taking a deep breath, I wiped my hands on my skirt and took a few paces forward down the steps. I nearly crashed headlong into a bustling messenger.

Feeling more impulsive than I had in days, I took him by the arm before he could escape me. "What news has come for the White Tower?"

He looked me up and down, unsure who I was or why I should be asking him such questions. But this was war and time was short. He would satisfy my request. "The Enemy has taken the passage of Anduin. Captain Faramir is retreating for the walls of Pelennor, ten times outnumbered."

I let his arm go, feeling the dread rising up in me. The man nodded at my reaction and stormed through the doors to offer a more detailed message to his lord. Of course, I was expecting this, but I still didn't want to believe it. Faramir really _did_ have no chance…

I was walking to the wall before I knew quite where my feet were carrying me. My legs just pressed against the stone and I knew to stop.

Rapid steps were coming up the stairs that led to the courtyard. I didn't pay any attention to them until I heard the signature _rap, rap, rap_ that went along in time with the boots.

Swiftly turning around, I watched as Mithrandir appeared at the entrance. He caught sight of me almost immediately and his scowl of duty became a soft, tired smile.

"Good morning." He greeted pleasantly.

"Hardly." I returned. I caught myself though before he could get away this time – he was a busy man – er, wizard – after all. It wasn't an opportunity I could throw away. "Wa-wait. Please. I… want to talk to you."

The old wizard sighed, but not rudely. It was more approving if anything. "Yes." He nodded slowly. "These times are dark, and I have been putting this off long enough."

Didn't know I was on the To-Do List.

I just nodded, pretending to understand. I automatically followed Mithrandir to the center of the courtyard where four soldiers stood just out of earshot, backs facing the dead tree.

"The White Tree of Gondor. The Third in fact."

I looked up at the dead plant with curiosity. "The third? Did they all die then?"

"Don't be so quick to assume there are no others." The wizard smiled. "There is hope yet for this city."

The mini motivation was nice and all, but I was feeling antsy. The last time we had a little chat, he was more vague than I would have liked. I mean… What was this Messiah nonsense Peregrin was talking about? It all seemed a bit far-fetched to me…

"You must be feeling some sort of confusion about the 'Messiah' theory." He said, reading my mind. He saw how startled I was and smiled. "Peregrin Took told me he let some things slip. But Young Pippin didn't harm anyone with his carelessness. Not this time."

"Pippin? Is that his nick name?"

Mithrandir was amused. "So many questions you may ask and you choose that one?"

I shrugged. "He interests me."

"Then yes, that is his 'nick name.'"

"I'm afraid I'm going to ask more questions than that."

"Always a problem with the young. Very well."

I smiled. "I suppose I'll ask the most obvious: why are you here?"

"Was not the most obvious to me."

"I heard the stories." I ignored his comment. "Did your fellowship break at the death of Boromir?"

Mithrandir looked sad. I felt bad for asking. "The Fellowship failed… before the death of the Lord Boromir."

"I'm sorry." I apologized almost icily. I had enough things to be sad about – if I would dwell on things out of my control any longer, my face would implode. Or I would be a wreck, rocking on the floor at Denethor's feet crying over everything. I was sick of being pathetic.

"My turn to ask a question." He volunteered. I patiently waited, deeming it fair. "How did you come by the blue wizards?"

Without holding anything back, I told Mithrandir then under the dead tree of all my adventures in the East. It wasn't hard to keep talking after my spiel and I had soon described for him (in probably excessive detail) of my home in Rohan with Beleg and Linius and Huan and Alatar. I finally stopped as my story reached Denethor and my resemblance to Finduilas. If I went further, I'd be too easy to read and I hated vulnerability just as much as I hated being useless and weak. Besides, my life in Gondor would not interest him. We were on a time crunch after all.

After mulling my story over, taking his time like chewing on a piece of hard candy, Mithrandir finally passed a hand over his staff and switched his balance to his other foot. "That clears things up, if only a bit. I haven't spoken with them in a lifetime…"

He was obviously referring to the blue wizards and I was half-worried that he had stopped listening to me and was stuck on that point. I certainly wasn't going to repeat myself. God, that was nearly half an hour ago!

But Mithrandir banished my fears. He nodded again. "Already, you have seen so much war."

"And I'm just a child." I finished his thought. Everyone's thought. My thought.

"I wouldn't say that." He said. "You have grown in your travels; you have given yourself over to the Steward. That is more than the wild child of Rohan would do."

I smiled slightly at the allusion, trying to agree with him. I suppose I had become more of a 'lady' since those days. Ironic that my name wasn't Lady anymore.

"At first, I was quite surprised, I do admit. The Messiah I have heard so much about is a woman."

I fidgeted. It was an uncomfortable term. Messiah. I could remember the connotation and I had a vague inkling that I knew a different Messiah in a different lifetime. With a candlelight mass and something called Christmas…

"I first heard tell of these 'prophets,' as they call themselves, in Edoras." Mithrandir continued, understanding my silence. All I could do was listen; there really wasn't anything to say. "Men from the East who speak of the one who fell from the sky. Daughter of Eru?"

"Who is Eru? I'm sorry – was that a dumb question?" I asked meekly. "I hear people say his name sometimes, but I never really understood…"

"I do not have an answer." Mithrandir answered simply enough. Guess it was taboo. Or he really didn't know. Probably a mixture of both.

"Alright then – what are they expecting of me? This 'Messiah?' Do I have to do something?"

"You don't have to do anything at all. Life's full of choices."

I was annoyed how he danced around subjects and spoke in riddles, but his council was precious to me. There was no one I could really talk to. I haven't held a decent conversation since I last saw Ioreth. I missed her so terribly…

"But… what are they saying about me? I'm sorry; I sound so selfish."

"You've a right to ask and know though you apologize too much." Mithrandir said. "If you so wish to know, the Easterlings tell of the 'Child of Eru' who was sent by Ilúvatar himself to destroy the Dark Lord Sauron and rid the peoples of Middle-Earth of his great shadow."

"Sounds melodramatic." I commented.

"Prophecies often are."

"But they can't honestly believe that." I said, almost laughing. "That's so ludicrous!"

"Oh, I would not be so quick to say so. The world works in mysterious ways. Besides, you have a few thousand followers going on pilgrimages to the spot you said you were – what did you say? – spot you awoke?"

"Pilgrimages? What, are they mad?"

"Certainly not. They are clinging to the only hope given them. Do not be so quick to judge the men of the East. They have lived under the reign of Mordor far longer than any other. Their women are captured, their men trained in war or slaughtered, and their children taken to the Black Land to worship the Eye. Inadvertently, 'Child of Eru,' you gave these wasted people a hope they could believe. You are a tangible being. You actually exist. That's more than can be said for the countless unseen gods they are forced to pray to."

I felt a strange mixture of pity and in all honesty flattery. For the first time in my life, I felt genuinely special. I could close my eyes and see a dozen faces similar to mine, standing all in a row. They were people I felt attached to but I could not put a name or a sound to their faces. They came only in my wildest dreams or in my most vivid nightmares, melting away or lost to the screeches of metal. They were so detailed! They haunted me and I knew them. I had to. They were a part of me. But the blond heads had more in common than this unspoken kinship – we all looked alike. I was one of a matching set. Bizarre that it took an alternate life and a group of religious fanatics to worship me for me to finally feel like an individual.

I shook my head, ridding myself of the thoughts. What did this mean? "I can't. I can't be a Messiah. Let them worship the symbol – not me. I haven't done a single useful thing in my life."

"Perhaps your time has not come." I looked to Mithrandir. He winked. "Yet."

I grinned doubtfully but hoped he was right all the same. "One last question. I promise."

"Never make promises you cannot keep."

"Master of Riddles…" I dubbed him, shaking my head. "How do you know Mordor is looking for me?"

"I will not count that. You can answer that yourself. Have you not felt the grip of shadow in your heart?"

More like _on_ my heart. It was such a physical thing. He was perfectly right. All those times I had looked East or thrown myself down in despair – could that have really been more than me being an angst-y teenage girl? Well, it was always a bit extreme. And I couldn't deny the voice that called to me sometimes… or my strange sleep-walking. Alright, question answered.

"Why do they want me?" I asked in barely a whisper, looking over my shoulder at the East like the voice would tell me itself.

"I cannot answer that question either." Mithrandir said. "But the prophets you so adamantly disbelieve say that they wish to corrupt the Messiah, withering all attempts at defiance. A godly gift seems like quite a threat, wouldn't you agree?"

"But he's not afraid of anything." I stated, suddenly referring to Sauron like I knew him on a personal level.

"That is not true. He is always afraid – of many things." He corrected. "He fears for his lost Ring, the trinket that could prove his ruin or his triumph. He fears for this strange 'Messiah' that his faithful slaves whisper will come to destroy him – Eru is not taken lightly by anyone, young Finwen." It was the first time he called me by name, distracting me from asking about the ring. Ring? What ring? "And he fears the heir of Isildur. For the return of the King."

"Will he return, Mithrandir? Truly?" I asked softly, still keeping my eyes Eastward.

"I'm afraid you ran out of questions." He teased lightly. "And we have both run out of time. Come – there is much to be done. And I would rather not have you out of my sight for too long. Though I'm sure the Steward Denethor keeps a relatively close eye on you, I am not in the mood to fancy his opinion."


	36. Already Burning

**Reminder:: **Recognizable scenarios, characters, places, and things are property of the Tolkien estate.

Wow, I love you guys so much. Your reviews always make me smile. =D

Yay, for exciting chapters! Hopefully this quenches a bit of your thirst for action. Maybe. We're almost there!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Six :: Already Burning**

* * *

Fire grew. It blasted through the darkness and squelched the air with fumes of smoke. But the sky was too dim and avoided exposure – the flames were all that could be seen across the murky fields of Pelennor, lining Rammas Echor and stopping hearts within the City. Torches glowed in the distance, filling the space between the last wall and the beyond.

But where were the Men of Gondor?

Like a mother chained to the wall, Minas Tirith stood dumbly, waiting for any sign of their Lord Faramir. Tonight he was everyone's son. There was nothing anyone could do but watch. See whatever future fate brought and hope to God it wasn't slaughter.

There was the muffled sound of a horn. A long note, clear and clean, rising up half an octave before it had been extinguished.

Denethor lifted his sinking head. Realization burning in his eyes, he could already hear the cries of the last people within his stronghold.

"Sound the call!" He suddenly shouted as if he had been long unheard. Half a dozen men in the chamber of the White Hall suddenly sprung into action and a loud trumpet sounded in alarm.

The people cheered as the chains released and justice poured from the Gate. "Amroth for Gondor! Amroth to Faramir!"

The swan-knights under the Prince of Dol Amroth raced across the plain to the small party of retreat in the fog. Hundreds of orcs and evil men of the South bearing torches and mounted were chasing down the small regiment that remained; a handful of men. A fraction of what they had been.

Before them all sprinted another beast far greater and swift in heart and hoof. Shadowfax bore his White Rider ahead of the company with a great light that split the darkness like a knife to the curtain. The Nazgûl screeched in banished fury, not able to hold a candle to the light. Their heavy wings backed away in retreat and those pursuing the company quickly became the hunted. The swan-knights held their swords high and slew those who had trespassed on their field.

Minas Tirith was in an uproar. Cheers of hope and victory rang as the last of the company of orcs fell with their smoking torches and the rest fled to the darkness. When the swan-knights assembled to pursue them, the trumpet of the Citadel echoed again. The Steward deemed the deed done. The company returned to the Gate.

* * *

"Your son has returned, lord, after great deeds…"

Denethor stared in silent horror. Prince Imrahil's burden was our greatest fear realized.

Peregrin shrunk away and managed to find me by stepping into my hiding spot behind one of the great stone columns. He walked backward into my stomach, but before he could cry out in surprise, I gripped his hand – and covered his mouth with my other, waiting intently for Prince Imrahil to finish Faramir's brave tale, a poisoned dart, and of being found alone upon the open fields.

The hobbit and I watched not Prince Imrahil but the Steward Denethor. I had expected a thousand emotions to stream across his face, for him to finally cry out in grief, for some sort of angry outburst at all that had happened. But he just sat there. Silent.

When the Prince had finished and the White Hall went cold, Denethor looked at Faramir and gave the order. "May a bed be made for him. Lay him here. Before his father, woeful son of mine!"

No one needed to think twice. Faramir was set down upon a white cot strewn with blankets that resembled something of an open coffin rather than a bed.

Everyone left save for Pippin and I. I knelt numbly by the side of the cot, feeling I was paying my last respects. Denethor had disappeared up the stair I knew to contain his drug of sight. The lights flashed and played pale across Faramir's quiet face.

"He's not dead." Pippin suddenly said.

I snapped my eyes at him, warning him if it was a simple comfort. But I could see the plain honesty in his eyes. Taking great care, I leaned over the broken lord and listened for a shallow breath. I could not tell if he breathed. I reached out my hand but hesitated. Peregrin nodded, pressing me forward. I rested my palm against his tunic for a heartbeat.

_There._


	37. Besieged

**Reminder:: **No copyright infringement. There just is none. Don't argue me. Rawr.

YES. It's about bloody time I got here. xD

I use a few choice words (not the 'f' word though n_n') so be forewarned, I suppose. This language will probably pick up as things get a little more stressed and Finwen/Sarah remembers more of herself.

Last chapter was itty bitty, but this and the next chapter should make up for it~

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Seven :: Besieged**

* * *

Shattered.

No one had been in the White Hall since they left Faramir here. Peregrin and I were the only ones to remain. Or at least we were the only ones not to make Denethor notice us.

Pippin had attempted to voice his concern – our concern – but Denethor took no heed of him. "He's not dead, my lord. He… he just needs some medicine!"

I felt invisible. Denethor looked more dead than Faramir at this point. He just stared at his son, older than I had ever seen him. Something inside him had finally snapped. What that something was remained unclear at the present. He hadn't said a word since he came back from the seeing stone.

Faramir writhed in a feverish state. He mumbled ineligible words, but the ones I had heard clearly were 'Boromir' and words calling out to his father. It was inevitable he would never wake. Perhaps it would have been better had the shot killed him…

_Don't think like that! You pathetic sissy! Stop being such a gloomy bitch and _do_ something for once in your life! You can still save him!_

As if to prove my inner scolding, the Lord Faramir shook his head, his face coated in sweat. His lips formed an 'F' and he let out: "-nwen."

I stood. No one else was doing anything and that resorted to him calling to me for help. That really says something if there's nowhere left to turn but to a silly girl like me.

Without a word, I ran out the front doors of the hall and sprinted down the courtyard. I stopped dead in my tracks before I could reach the stairs.

The day was dark, as if night was eternal though by the hour, I was sure it was mid-day. The hosts of Mordor were upon our doorstep. For as far as the eye could see in the murky light, legions of orcs and foul creatures were lined against the city. The attack began.

Catapults went off in clicking tangent. The orcs had vaults of their own that sent tiny, round objects like small stones towards the city. Later, I would discover those stones were the heads of the fallen left in Pelennor.

Boulders the size of horse stalls were flung at the first city wall. Pieces of the beautiful white marble chipped, cracked, and fell in giant lumps - killing our own underneath their weight. But that was not going to be the end of it. Intense pride swelling within my chest, I saw those same pieces of the city being thrown onto the Pelennor. Suck on that.

I made a dash for the stairs and was met halfway down by a guard of the Citadel. Inwardly cursing myself for getting caught so quickly, I paid little heed to the man behind the helm until he addressed me.

"Finwen, it's me!"

I finally looked up in shock. "M-Mordred! You're alive!"

"I thought the Steward held you prisoner in the White Hall." The question quickly became a statement from the flustered man.

"I am no prisoner." I said flatly.

My answer came as an unexpected support for Denethor. He stared at me a moment.

"What news of the Gate? Have you not seen the—"

"Almost completely seized." Mordred cut me off, still staring. "What of the Captain—"

"He needs help. Where is Mithrandir?"

"Everywhere." He answered. "Will the Steward not come to command—?"

"No. Find me Mithrandir or point me to him. I've nowhere else to turn."

Mordred read my face for longer than I would have liked. We were rather pressed for time.

"Mordred!" I jostled him out of the stupor.

Then he rather sprang forward and kissed me.

I was too startled to do anything except stare at him and wonder why his lips were on my face. On my lips. Good God, this was awkward.

Pushing on his shirt front, I staggered backwards and wiped my mouth. It was probably rude, but that was the least of my problems right now.

"I'm sorry!" He instantly became the wrong-doing school boy. "I am so sorry, Lady Finwen! I didn't mean to—"

"What the—"

Luckily, he cut me off with more apologies. "I'm so sorry, I just thought that this might be the last time I'll ever see you and—"

"What are you talking about?" I stopped him. I suddenly realized that he was thinking the same thing I was – the inevitable. We were all going to die. Feeling I must support Faramir, Pippin, and Mithrandir's hope while they could not, I shook my head. "No. We will not die. We will yet live, Mordred – live to see another day. Fear not – I'm off to find Mithrandir—"

In the most broken, interrupted conversation I've ever had, Mordred's face broke. "Benold is dead."

* * *

After months, I had found myself standing in the Houses of Healing. Ioreth was on my mind, but she had not appeared. Even the Warden had not appeared when Mordred and I entered. Everyone was running about in a mad rush to try to save the lives of those carried or dropped at the doorstep.

The front room I had so many good memories in - from playing with Huan, to hiding from the Warden, to meeting Faramir for Yuletide - was loaded with dead bodies. Men lined the floor, sheets over their faces, and women continued to carry the dead from rooms that were crowded enough to bring them out here where there was room. The rooms they vacated could be used to treat new soldiers.

I thought it would be impossible to find Benold in this mess, but Mordred pointed out the right blanketed figure to me. Before he could say anything else, I shooed him away. Tristed was still manning the wall after all.

Choosing my steps carefully, I made my way over and knelt on the floor. I carefully lifted the blanket from his face.

Benold looked pained. I had seen death in faces before, but I had rarely seen a peaceful one. Benold was not an exception. The merry man who had tried to teach me to dance was crippled, face contorted in despair. Upon further examination, I realized that he had been decapitated.

I threw the blanket back over him, hand over my mouth to stop myself from being sick. Even so, I was glad Mordred had shown me this. Indirectly. I was hardened. The camp slaughter in the East, the burnt home in Rohan, and now the headless Benold. They gave me a peculiar strength. A strength that told me I was certainly not invincible, but I could still do great things. I could be more than what I am now. For others. I need to do something.

Mordred had also indirectly escorted me to my destination without a hassle. If someone were to find me, they would probably send me here anyways though – all the women left in the City were here.

Without much of a stomach but with a good head on my shoulders, I stormed into the back room where the Warden kept his plants. I riffled through the already picked over selection and chose those necessary to reduce a fever. I was glad that I had watched Ioreth and listened to her when she spoke. I wouldn't have known what to do otherwise. I ground them with the mortar and pestle and without a bag or spoon, I stole a small wooden bowl and put my mixture in it. It would taste like horseshit, but it was the best I could do for Faramir at the moment.

* * *

The first level cracked. Those who had not fled were standing beside Mithrandir. Fire seemed to erupt from every chasm and the walls stank of blood, sweat, and smoke in the night. On the other side of the gate, Hell knocked.

Grond. Grond. Grond.


	38. The Messiah in the Smoke

**Reminder:: **Because of my excessive quoting in this chapter, I feel I really must actually cite this. _The Return of King_, section of _The Lord of the Rings_, _Book Five_, chapters 4: _The Siege of Gondor_, 6: _The Battle of the Pelennor Fields_, and 7: _The Pyre of Denethor_. Yeah. Because most of this chapter is actually Tolkien's, it's going to be a pretty awesome chapter. xD

The title may not make much sense at first, but it refers to Denethor's vision in the palantír. Hope that helps~

Here we go! Stick with me guys; I need you. =3

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Eight :: The Messiah in the Smoke**

* * *

Running back up the stairs with my medicine, I was stared at by nearly everybody, almost distracting actually. It wasn't something to boost my ego or anything – if I saw a girl with a wooden bowl in Minas Tirith in the middle of battle, I'd stare, too. Quite odd really.

And then I was stopped by one of the last guards who kept the passwords. There was no arguing with him.

"Please, I need to go back! I—"

"I cannot let you go without a password, maid." The guard denied.

"It's a war, dammit! Let me through! This medicine is for the Lord Faramir!" I stomped my foot impatiently.

"The Lord Faramir has been dead for a few hours now – they took him to the Silent Street. Back to the houses with you!" He shouted. Obviously, I had taken the wrong approach.

At first, his comment didn't sink in. Faramir? Dead? It didn't fit quite right. Honestly, it was like telling me I really wasn't a girl; I had been an ape all my life. It didn't sit right at all. It simply wasn't true. I didn't believe it. I couldn't now.

I turned around like I was going to listen to him, but I suddenly sprinted at him to get by. He caught me like a young child with only one arm and pushed me back. I lost my bowl and it clipped to the ground, spilling its contents onto the stone.

I shouted in alarm and anger and he let me go. Before he could get a word out, I went for his crotch. The man caught my foot and sent me reeling backwards, falling to my bum.

Throwing the hair from my face, I snarled at him: "You will regret this! I am a Lady of the Citadel!"

"Lady of the Citadel? Be gone!"

"It's true!" I defended myself, standing already. "I am the Lady Finwen!"

"Never heard of her. Now get along – before you get yourself killed!"

I was already forgotten? Now _that_ was a bruise to my ego. But that was a bruise I could do nothing about. It seemed I had no other choice.

Glaring at him, I could think of no retort. Not bothering with the bowl, I ran in the opposite direction.

For whatever reason, the guards were few and far between as I went lower. Actually, I didn't run into another guard at all. Every man was off somewhere else fighting.

Running like a lunatic through the White City wasn't exactly the easiest thing either. I was winded, having sat around for too long, and the streets wound about in the most confusing manner. When I thought I was following the main road, I would soon find myself dead ended in an alley. Curse this beautiful city.

The rising smoke became more and more prominent as I neared the ground. I hadn't realized I had been living so high – my ears popped constantly and I felt light-headed. I was like a caged bird, tasting fresh air for the first time. Or a sweaty girl running for my last hope. That, too.

I suddenly knew where all the men were. Running by me in droves, fleeing the first level, those who remained were at the Gate and all else were escaping for their lives. Fire burned and bodies piled on one another. Cast aside for the time. For a time when time could be given for them. The atrocious smells of blood, sweat, innards, and urine released after death filled the air in the most horrific scene I had ever been a part of. I suddenly felt very small.

_But Faramir could not be dead… He couldn't be…_

Poor Pippin watched in horror as guards poured into the White Hall. He was the only one left to open the doors now that nearly everyone was off fighting, but he would do so to serve his lord.

"The first circle of the City is burning, lord. What are your commands? You are still the Lord and Steward. Not all will follow Mithrandir. Men are flying from the walls and leaving them unmanned."

But Denethor would not hear a word from the soldiers. He was as a statue, or a man before the gallows. He was ready to die. "Why? Why do the fools fly?" He asked in a rasped, tired voice. "Better to burn sooner than late, for burn we must. Go back to your bonfire! And I? I will go now to my pyre. To my pyre! No tomb for Denethor and Faramir. No tomb! No long slow sleep of death embalmed."

The fear in the young hobbit rose as he understood what his lord was saying. He had gone mad!

"We will burn like heathen kings before ever a ship sailed hither from the West. The West has failed. Go back and burn!"

The guards fled without a word, scared out of their minds and shaken by their trusted lord. Their last hope had failed. Now everything relied on the wizard.

Peregrin watched in sorrow as the men fled and the door shut. He turned to the Steward who was leaning over his son, wiping the sweat off his brow. "He is burning, already burning… The house of his spirit crumbles."

He suddenly turned to Pippin, standing and staring him down. "Farewell! Farewell, Peregrin son of Paladin! Your service has been short, and now it is drawing to an end. I release you from the little that remains. Go now, and die in what way seems best to you. And with whom you will, even that friend whose folly brought you to this death. Send for my servants and then go. Farewell!"

Pippin stood his ground against the high lord, feeling every bone in his small body a hobbit. "I will not say farewell, my lord. I will take your leave, sir, for I want to see Gandalf very much indeed. But he is no fool; and I will not think of dying until he despairs of life."

In short, Peregrin was thrown out. Forced to helplessly watch as Faramir was bore away to the Silent Street, Rath Dínen. The door was unlocked and swung aside where they disappeared within. Pippin sprinted, at his wit's end, and followed after his lord.

A lantern was the only light in the tombs. Vaulted ceilings seemed to leer down at the young hobbit in shadowed faces. Stumbling to keep up, he found himself directly behind the bier bearing the Captain Faramir. Denethor strode resolutely ahead with the porter holding the swaying lantern light.

Denethor suddenly stopped. The room had a door that the keeper quickly opened with a soft click. The Lord of the City strode inside and stopped in the middle of the cleared floor. "Here we will wait. But send not for the embalmers. Bring us wood quick to burn, and lay it all about us, and beneath; and pour oil upon it. And when I bid you thrust in a torch. Do this and speak no more to me. Farewell!"

Shaken, Pippin realized he was referring to him. "By your leave, lord!"

He dashed from the tombs as fast as his little legs could carry him. "Poor Faramir!" But what could he do? The young Lord wasn't dead – Pippin knew that much. But what could a small hobbit like him do? Well, when he didn't know what to do, there was always one way he could turn. "I must find Gandalf. Poor Faramir! Quite likely needs medicine more than tears. Oh, where can I find Gandalf? In the thick of things, I suppose; and he will have no time to spare for dying men or madmen."

And so Pippin ordered the wood and oil but restricted any fire from entering the Silent Street until Gandalf could arrive. Though, these men did not trust Gandalf like Pippin did. They would do what their Lord wished – even if it meant setting fire to the last son of Gondor.

"What are you doing away from the Citadel? Prince of the Halflings! Halt!"

I spun around to see Pippin barreling down the path after me. Men were calling to him because of his uniform – he was not to leave the Citadel as a guard. By the look on his horrified face, he was just as terrified by the battle and surprised to see me as I was to see him.

"Oi! Lady Finwen! What – What are you doing here?" He stammered, catching his breath.

"Looking for Mithrandir! Is it true? Faramir is—"

"No!" Pippin shook his head, still breathing hard. "Lord Denethor – he's gone mad! He wants to burn him alive!"

Mouth gaping, my heart stopped. Denethor? Mad…? My heart was breaking. He had finally given up. And I wasn't there to convince him otherwise. But then there was the matter of his son… There was no time to lose.

"We must find Gandalf!" Peregrin spoke for me, having to yell over the shouting and rattle of swords.

I agreed and we continued to run down the path together.

Here it was strangely quiet. The soldiers by the Gate were petrified, staring into the face of their doom. And outside the gate, a loud chant rose from voices and mouths of creatures that were not Men. "Grond! Grond! Grond!"

There was an enormous smashing sound that shook the Gate to the core. Shivers seemed to run through the metal and chain as well as the spines of those watching. Pippin and I were frozen, hearts stole away as we too waited.

I was suddenly holding Pippin's shoulder tight, scared half out of my mind. I had been safe and sound up in my little tower for so long and now here I was – on the front lines. Quite literally, this was as close as I could get to danger.

The cries for 'Grond' continued with the steady beat of heavy drums.

"You are soldiers of Gondor!" A familiar voice boomed over the men. "No matter what comes through that gate – you will stand your ground!"

A voice unlike any other I had ever heard screamed over all the noise and horror, creating a terror of its own design. I wished to cover my ears, but the voice spoke a tongue I could not understand. The voice was like twisting metal. A car flashed before my eyes, an old rusty Volvo, and a line of pine trees caught in bright headlights.

The smash came again, but this time, the door could not take the beating. A giant, wolfish face of iron and flame rammed its way through the Gate creating a hole for its head. Mithrandir's voice continued to echo over the cheers and drums on the other side. "Hold your ground! Hold your ground!"

The third time Grond hit the door, he succeeded. With a heave, the great Gate swung open wide.

All but Mithrandir fled. A great shadow like smoke enveloped the door and poured through. Out of the dark, a slithering head appeared with a mouth of knives. Great, leather wings snapped up and claws on the ends like those of a bat lunged forward, bringing its rider through the Gate. Upon his mount, a great shadowed figure sat tall.

My world had gone silent. The empty face of the hood turned towards me. I could hear my own breathing, my own heart within my chest beating rapidly. I had let go of Peregrin's shoulder. He seemed to notice the change and he reached out to me. I couldn't feel him. I was numb to all else save for the being at the door.

His steed opened its great mouth and a long, lashing tongue dripped out. Carrion fowl – like a snake, bat, and bird in one. I could not stop staring. And before I realized I was walking forward, I was standing beside Mithrandir, lost in my trance.

_God Child… Ssssarahh…_

He said my name. _My_ _name._

_Child of Eru… _

Curious and confused, I looked where eyes might have been.

_Come… Home…_

Home! Oh, to be home again! But… what did that mean? Where would I go? Who would I leave behind? A tempting offer though… Did Sauron hold the answers? Could he really help me?

An arm wrapped about my waist and I was suddenly lunging forward. Pitched over the side of a horse, I snapped out of my stupor and stared at the sweating neck of Shadowfax at my nose.

"You cannot enter here!" Mithrandir shouted, alone where he stood but for silly little me and the cowering Peregrin. "Go back to the abyss prepared for you! Go back! Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your Master! Go!"

The creature took his steel gauntlet to his face and tossed his hood aside to reveal a great crown of metal set upon red fire. He presented a sword wreathed in flame. Somehow, he mocked the wizard in laughter with a voice colder than ice. "Old fool! This is my hour. Do you not know Death when you see it? Die now and curse in vain!"

A horn blasted through the twilight.

With barely time to blink, the great black rider thrust himself into the air, the fell beast carrying him to battle away from the Gate.

"What are you doing here?" Mithrandir asked. To my surprise, he was referring to the young hobbit that came running up behind us. At the present, I was to go ignored.

"The Lord is out of his mind, I think. I am afraid he will kill himself, and kill Faramir too. Can't you do something?"

Mithrandir looked out the Gate where the horns were blowing and then down at me in his saddle. "I must go. The Black Rider is abroad, and he will yet bring ruin on us. I have no time."

"But Faramir! He is not dead, and they will burn him alive, if someone does not stop them."

"Burn him alive? What is this tale? Be quick!"

Because I had not actually heard the story either, the two of us listened to Pippin explain. Wood, oil, bier, Rath Dínen, and a locked door. I was convinced.

"Can't you save Faramir?" Pippin breathed despairingly.

Mithrandir looked suddenly older and forlorn. With a sigh he said: "Maybe I can, but if I do, then others will die, I fear. Well, I must come, since no other help can reach him. But evil and sorrow will come of this. Even in the heart of our stronghold the Enemy has power to strike us: for his will it is that is at work."

Taking up Pippin as well, fitting three people upon Shadowfax, Mithrandir summoned up the reigns and turned the horse about to climb the stairs of the City.

Pressed between the wizard and hobbit, I couldn't exactly hold on and I didn't feel the need. I was finally doing something – I was about to be of use. And I would save them.

Shadowfax carried us straight up the stair and across the stone courtyard, passing by the Withered Tree. His hooves clipped along the causeway and to the Silent Street where the door hung open wide. A small lump was strewn on the ground and grew into the form of a man as we approached. The keeper of the keys.

"Work of the Enemy!" Mithrandir muttered. With a quick snap, Shadowfax shot forward into the dark hall.

The great beast slowed as we entered the antechamber. Just within the next room beyond a small door, Faramir lay upon a tall stack to wood doused in oil. In the way of the door stood one of the Guards of the Citadel, sword drawn and coated in the blood of two servants he had slain who had threatened to bring torches within.

"Stay! Stay! Stay this madness!" The wizard shouted. I flung myself off Shadowfax, regaining my bearings only for a moment before running forward and nearly slipping in the pooling blood.

Denethor's voice echoed from the room with Faramir. "Haste, haste! Do as I have bidden! Slay me this renegade! Or must I do so myself?"

The Steward threw the door back and drew his sword, threatening the man who still stood for his Captain.

Throwing a light from his hand, the Lord of the City lost his sword to the wizard. "What is this, my lord? The houses of the dead are no places for the living. And why do men fight here in the hallows when there is war enough before the Gate? Or has the Enemy come even to Rath Dínen?"

Denethor gave his cool reply, not seeing Pippin or I beside him. "Since when has the Lord of Gondor been answerable to thee? Or may I not command my own servants?"

"You may, but others may contest your will, when it is turned to madness and evil. Where is your son, Faramir?"

"He lies within, burning, already burning. They have set a fire in his flesh. But soon all shall be burned. The West has failed. It shall all go up in a great fire, and all shall be ended. Ash! Ash and smoke blown away on the wind!"

Stepping forward, I let out a cry as tears held thick in my eyes. "You're going to kill Faramir! My lord, please! _You're_ going to kill him! He's your son!"

Though different from his vision, Denethor stared in horror as the familiar scene unraveled before his eyes. Eyes still aflame, face as desperate, though she was held back now by the Guard of the Citadel – now traitor to his lord. Rather than realizing the palantír may tell lies or futures may be changed, he saw the truth the palantír held and recoiled.

"See what you have done!" I pleaded, only now realizing the force keeping me from entering the chamber with Mithrandir was that of two arms holding me back with an iron grip.

Denethor briskly walked up to me. The man holding me back stepped rapidly backwards, thinking he would do me harm. Instead, Denethor gripped my face in his hands, his eyes wild and searching. "You…! Finwen, friend, and daughter! You have not betrayed me."

"Never, my lord and father. I am by your side." I assured him.

He seemed relieved, but I could not understand. I would never understand.

Mithrandir appeared in the doorway, carrying Faramir out. Denethor suddenly grieved and pathetically whimpered, reaching out to his son. "Do not take my son from me! He calls for me."

"He calls, but you cannot come to him yet. For he must seek healing on the threshold of death, and maybe find it not. Whereas your part is to go out to the battle of your City, where maybe death awaits you. This you know in your heart. Come! We are needed. There is much that you can yet do."

The Lord Denethor retreated to the small chamber and appeared once more, holding a rounded orb. It was the seeing stone.

"Pride and despair! Didst thou think that the eyes of the White Tower were blind? Nay, I have seen more than thou knowest, Grey Fool. For thy hope is but ignorance. Go then and labour in healing! Go forth and fight! Vanity. For a little space you may triumph on the field, for a day. But against the Power that now arises there is no victory. To this City only the first finger of its hand has yet been stretched. All the East is moving. And even now the wind of thy hope cheats thee and wafts up Anduin a fleet with black sails. The West has failed. It is time for all to depart who would not be slaves."

"What then would you have, if your will could have its way?" Mithrandir asked carefully. All eyes rested on the mad ruler.

"I would have things as they were in all the days of my life and in the days of my long-fathers before me: to be the Lord of this City in peace, and leave my chair to a son after me, who would be his own master and no wizard's pupil. But if doom denies this to me, then I will have _naught_: neither life diminished, nor love halved, nor honour abated."

"To me it would seem that a Steward who faithfully surrenders his charge is diminished in love or in honour. And at the least you shall not rob your son of his choice while his death is still in doubt." Mithrandir said.

"So! Thou hadst already stolen half my son's love. Now thou stealest the hearts of my knights also, so that they rob me wholly of my son at the last. But in this at least though shalt not defy my will: to rule my own end."

"My lord! NO!" I screamed, but I was too late. Denethor stole a servant's torch and leapt upon the pyre, lighting it aflame. Palantír in hand, he stared at me a moment with sad, determined eyes and lay down upon the wood.

I was frozen, but I would not fail him. He closed his eyes. Mithrandir shut the door at the lost cause, but I threw myself against it. "No! No! I cannot fail him! No! Please! Help!"

Pounding on the door like a maniac, the key somewhere amongst the chaos but not in my possession, I helplessly listened as the Steward gave a final wail and was silent but for the crackle of fire within.

Breathing heavily, I fell against the barrier and slid to the floor. I had no words.

Mithrandir was the only one who could speak in such an hour. "So passes Denethor, son of Ecthelion."


	39. Decoy

**Reminder:: **Even though I've been absent for awhile, I have not acquired any new copyrights. Not mine.

So I've been gone a couple months. I wrote a complete story in that time and I think I've grown quite a bit in my writing. We'll find out now, I suppose… xD

Note: I wanted to use the palantir, but Tolkien said that Denethor died with it and those who looked into it afterwards only saw his shriveled hands. So… I did this instead. Sorry for the cop out, but I don't want to change something that's canon – even if it is rather minor. n_n'

Just as a refresher, there are forty-nine chapters total. That means ten more to go until it's over – whoa! =O Thanks for sticking around – here's the next chapter!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Nine :: Decoy**

* * *

I came to myself with a young Hobbit before me. My eyes focused, my head reeling. My lungs caught – only now did I realize I was sobbing. Peregrin stroked my hand comfortingly, sitting across from me in my small bedroom.

"Lady Finwen?" He seemed to realize I had come back. But where had I gone?

I hid my face in my hands, pulling away from him. "I'm alright." I lied. He called me Finwen. Denethor called me Finwen. Everyone called me Finwen. I was not Finwen. My name was _Sarah._ He said it. It was true. _He_ knew. I wanted to scream it now, tell everyone they were wrong – stopitstopistopstopstop. But I bottled it up and forgot about it and the trouble it would cause.

Pippin didn't know what to say. He stared at the curled hair on his bare feet as he clicked his heels together underneath his chair. I sat back in my bed, reveling in the darkness my hands buried me in and hoped it would devour me.

"They're all dead, Pippin." I finally said, barely in a whisper. The chair creaked as he leaned forward, straining to hear me. "Everyone. Everyone I've ever known."

"Not everyone, Lady!" He corrected jovially. His roused spirits put a buzzing in my head that made me regret speaking to him. I was having a dark moment and he intruded with his sunshine. "Captain Faramir's alive – and doing much better now that the King paid a visit."

I sat up straighter. My loyalty to Denethor had me bristled – I was determined to carry on his wishes and I was now skeptical of this 'King' that the people of Minas Tirith longed for. Denethor didn't trust him? Why should I?

"Where is he? This 'King?'"

Peregrin sat back, surprised at my attitude. "Out in the camps – he doesn't want to come to the City. He thinks it wouldn't be best."

_He's wise then._ I certainly wouldn't be handing him a welcome wagon – but then again, I wasn't in any leadership position to do so. I was just an angst-y girl who was sick of death.

I pulled my legs closer to me, folding in on myself. Silence loomed around us, but I felt the young hobbit was anxious. I turned to him. "Peregrin, is something the matter?"

He blushed, embarrassed he was caught fussing. "Oi, nothing, Lady. I just… my good friend Merry turned up. I was watching him in the Houses, but I wanted to make sure you were doing alright…"

"By all means – go!" I shook my head. "Tend to the wounded. I should join you shortly, anyways. Peregrin, fear not for me. Be gone now – quick!"

He bowed and tried his best to be professional about it, but he hastened out of my sight quick as an arrow. I laughed to myself as the door swung shut behind him. Pippin was so kind – a little clumsy – but true. I admired the little fellow and held a respect for his people through knowing him. I would often wonder about the Halflings – the strange hobbit folk – years from now. For I would never see his lands.

I lay my head on the pillow and closed my eyes. They were swollen and dried after the hours I had spent crying myself numb. I was so tired…

_The winds were cold and the mountains tall and capped with ice. It was still winter here. _

_Chilled rock scraped underneath my hands and I realized I was on my knees, looking upwards at a star blanketed sky swirling with the navy that would bring the rising sun. Though my robes were lovely, they were made for harsh winter weather – thick and coated in wools and scratchy linens. _

_Then I heard the cry. It was more of a call, echoing throughout the crevices and canyons, singing a shrill message in the icy wind. Or a warning. It was an eagle's voice, strong and pure. The song filled my ears and mind and heart, dwelling somewhere in the back of my mind. I would remember this. This was important._

_My body felt detached and the stars changed overhead like a kaleidoscope. A woman, skirts twirling about her, danced in the sky, leading me. Her raven hair glistened in unfathomably large tresses, her eyes the color of night. She was a woman of the stars, of the blank expanse of sky, and she was more beautiful than any word could describe. _

_I followed her as she wound her way above me, impossibly fluid and pure. I ran up tight mountain passes and through thick chunks of rock to have my feet touch something softer. Moss. Lichens. My eyes absorbed the darkness and I saw the eyrie she wanted me to see. _

_Before my feet reached the large branches and trunks of full trees of an enormous nesting site, my vision flickered before a star and I saw a large black gate carved into dark, jagged mountains. An army fought at its feet, hopelessly losing their battle. A mountain of fire erupted, the Earth cracked, and all was lost – but for the eagles' distant call._

_She had no voice, but somehow I knew. This woman was a messenger of a God – a God I knew with perhaps a different name. The woman stopped in the sky over the nest and as I climbed out to meet her, she nodded once to me and disappeared into the cosmos._

I awoke. The room was dark, a single candle burning by my bedside. Someone had lit the wick when I was asleep – it must've been hours ago. The wax had drained and formed a puddle in the basin, overflowing and drying on the table underneath. The room was light when I shut my eyes – a surprise in and of itself. The dark clouds that had been coughed from the East had lessened and a blanket of stars reminiscent of my dreams began to emerge on the horizon opposite the setting sun.

I kicked the blankets from me and leapt up from bed.

I had lost it all. There was nothing left. I was nothing. But this – this was it. What I had been looking for. This was Finwen's purpose. And I, as Sarah, would serve it well.


	40. Flight to the North

**Reminder:: **I do not hold ownership of the recognizable traits of Tolkien lore.

This is going to be a little nutty, but hang in there! Was this ever normal though? n_n'

High school is over for me! I suppose it's strange, but I don't think it has sunk in yet. In the meantime, I'll write like crazy to get this finished before the end of June. =)

* * *

**Chapter Forty :: Flight to the North**

* * *

Their silhouettes. Sometimes one. Sometimes the other. Sometimes both. Sometimes everyone. They linger with shadowed minds among bright colors in balloons, blossoming flowers, and Hallmark cards. Their world is sterilized in a mixture of anesthetic fumes. My heart keeps the monitor constant.

They hold my hand. They play music. They watch my favorite shows. They tell me stories about their day. What I have missed. The days. The months. The birthdays. And suddenly the holidays have come and gone and my presents go unopened for the sixth, seventh, eighth time in a row.

When will I wake?

* * *

Here I was nineteen years old, running like mad down the broken city. My ears popped with the change in altitude and my head felt dizzy. No one bothered to stop me – people moved in and out of the levels with the dead and wounded like ants. I was just another with a mission of my own.

And then my feet touched grass.

It took me a moment to revel in the feel, the smell, the sensation of being on the ground. The closest I had come had been hours ago at the Gate, but grass! When had I last been outside – truly outside? The day I buried Huan. It had been too long.

The sense of detachment vanished and I was one again. It caused me to stop in my tracks and look about me, trying desperately to concentrate on my objective while clinging to something that is a part of me somewhere.

I let it go.

A cluster of white tents grouped just outside the city's white walls catch my wandering eye. Soldiers of Gondor and Rohan alike meandered in and out of the rows. If they would be anywhere – it would be there.

I boldly entered the largest white tent I found and reeled backwards. Men and taller, more beautiful men started to pour out from the exit. I didn't know there would be such an audience…

"Lady Finwen!" The vaguely familiar voice said, apparently startled.

I looked up. "Prince Imrahil! I did not recognize you."

"Neither had I. What is a lady of the court doing about the camps? Should you not be by my nephew's side?" He questioned with his grey eyes. His mouth had hardened since I saw him last – he was almost grim, but the blood in his veins stayed true and he was as fair as those who had left the tent before him.

"I have…" My tongue stopped. For some reason, his sentences weren't sinking in as quickly as they used to. What was wrong with my head? It felt like I had been kicked by a horse – ever since I saw that… thing at the Gate. It was like the Prince of Dol Amroth had a thick accent or he was speaking a different dialect entirely. And I wanted to answer him in an informal, familiar way. What was wrong with me?

The Prince caught my mental off-balance and saw me staring past him. He was reluctant to leave without his question answered and me alone, but some greater duty called him away. I pushed the flap of the tent back and stepped inside.

The first person my eyes rested on was the White Wizard Mithrandir. He appeared to be as tranquil as ever with his slight domineering essence. Still – I felt sour when I saw him. He was good, this I knew, but his face would forever remind me of Denethor's death. Nothing would change that.

The second person was… plain. At first. He appeared to be a man dressed darkly, his hair slightly unkempt, and his facial features nothing short of average. But there was a certain something… I could not name. The way he sat and held his head and shoulders – it wasn't arrogant or officious like the Lord Denethor, but it was regal and intent in its own subtle way. This man spoke to be a man of many talents – practical, kind, and strong. I could see him cloaked in robes lined with ermine, but he could roll his sleeves to his elbows and heal the wounded, too.

He caught my stare.

Mithrandir answered for the both of us. "Ah, the young Lady Finwen. The late steward's adopted heiress. What commands you hence?"

I blinked. I knew better than to ask questions, but I felt uncomfortable that this was the 'king' I had heard so much about. The man with the mud-splattered boots and sheathed sword at his hip was here to replace Denethor. It sounded ridiculous but for the first impression he made on me without a word or even a look…

I opened my mouth and found my voice lost. The tent was empty but for the three of us – I almost wished the others back. For all I knew, I believed to be standing in front of the two most powerful beings in this Middle-Earth. My heart pounded dangerously and my feet threatened to flee, but for the growing image of my dream. It was ludicrous to come to such people with tales of dreams, but… Her eyes. Made of stars. Shimmering and bright as she danced through the sky to the North. I felt I knew her voice though she never made a sound…

_This is your chance to live again…_

I blurt it out. "The eagles!"

The two looked to each other and then back at me, waiting for me to elaborate. Mithrandir saw how shaken I was and beckoned me forward. I left the walls of the tent and stood before them – still at a safe distance I felt.

"I… was called." I re-worded 'I had a dream.' I didn't want to make a fool of myself… "You need the eagles."

"The eagles?" Mithrandir asked. He stroked his white beard with thought. "How much do you know, Finwen?"

The man spoke for the first time. His voice didn't mock me, to my surprise, as he read my face like an open book. "She knows of more than she imagined."

I gulped, clenching my hands tightly together. "There's going to be a battle… I don't know where, exactly, but… you need the eagles for… victory."

"There's more of a Took in this one than I thought…" I couldn't blame Mithrandir – I would be skeptical, too. I had to place my authority somehow. To prove my story was genuine.

I stood up straighter. "It's true! I… She came to me in a vision." They mercifully didn't interrupt me. "She was… I cannot describe her – my words are an ill justice to her might and beauty. She was the stars in the sky. This woman led me north – she's telling me to fetch her eagles. Well, somehow I know they are not hers – they must be her husband's."

Their faces were unreadable. I continued, a bit more desperately. "Please let me go – I can do this!"

"Do what?" Mithrandir asked. "Where do you wish to go?"

"North." I answered lamely. "For… the eagles…"

"I'm afraid your request is closer to a sentence." The kingly man answered. "You cannot travel north alone, Lady Finwen—"

I never took myself to be indignant. Cheeky enough to argue kings. But suddenly I had opened my Pandora's box of emotions and the first to come out was anger. "I'm not lying! It's the truth! I must go to the North – you _need_ the eagles! Mithrandir," I said, turning my focus to him. "you have not known me long to judge me well. If I was lying, what would you lose? Just a nobody without a memory – this is my purpose! I know now… I must do this. Please."

My feet didn't give them the chance to answer. I started backing away.

"Finwen!" Mithrandir's voice called me back.

I kept walking, but as I parted the tent, I said: "Look for me. They will come."

I ran.

* * *

The Houses of Healing were teeming with the nurses left behind to help and men carting in their broken friends. It was hard to believe these once quiet halls were my home. For a short time…

I suddenly ached to see Ioreth, but I figured she was too busy. In reality, I was too busy. I couldn't let myself fail now that I've gotten this far – and I didn't have time to spare.

The sunlight shimmered across the white stone steps through the windows, the rays of light dancing on my quick feet. I threw my head back, my hair twirling behind me and I saw a streak of blonde locks flying in the wind high above. A woman in white, not a few years older than myself, stood staring out at the horizon. Her eyes were focused on the carnage that was slowly being picked through in the fields. She held her arm – only now did I realize the sling. Her face was pale with grief and fatigue. She saw me staring up at her, but by the time she looked down, I had disappeared.

The warm cup steamed from my hands as I neared the door, careful not to spill. I peered in from around the corner – by the unsuspicious questions I asked, I should have been given directions to the right room…

At first, I feared he was asleep and I had woken him. But he blinked his eyes and sighed, deep in thought. He was facing the window, propped up comfortably with pillows on a small bed. He turned to face me.

"Finwen. I was hoping you would come."

I gave Faramir a small smile and stepped into the room. Seeing him motionless reminded me of the pyre and I shuddered. The same thing was on both our minds, looming as the white elephant in the room. We had only become acquainted through Denethor, really… Now he was gone.

He saw me lingering and motioned me forward. "Do I scare you?"

My smile was genuine this time as I came and sat on the end of his bed. It was the most informal atmosphere I had ever had around the Lord Faramir. Well… actually, wasn't he the steward now? Or wasn't he? Did we even need one anymore? If we had a king now? I hated politics. They were such a mess…

"How are you?" I asked.

"Alive." Faramir nodded. "And you?"

"Still here." I answered the same. I bit my lip and remembered the cup of tea. "I have something to tell you."

"Oh?"

"First – have some tea. I don't know why I'm still holding this…" I presented the cup to him.

"Thank you." Faramir held it and took a light sip. He grimaced. "Strong."

"Rather." I nodded. "I made it myself – it's supposed to help."

"Then it's good." Faramir said and took a second sip, longer than the first.

I smiled and began. I didn't have much time now and I told him so. "I haven't much time, but I wanted you to know that I had a dream. I know what you think – probably the same as Mithrandir and the man with the long sword…"

"You mean you met the Lord Aragorn?"

"That's his name." I stated and nodded. "I suppose it fits him well. But yes – I've told them my story. Though I'm afraid I was terrified and my purpose didn't come out right."

"What was your dream, Finwen?" He asked, stifling a yawn.

"Sorry – I digress." I shook my head. "There was a woman in the sky in my dream – she wants me to go to the North."

He waited, so I went on.

"And I plan to."

This startled him, but his eyes drooped. "You believe your dream was real? Finwen, you cannot go alone—"

"Aragorn and Mithrandir told me much the same, but I intend to. I can travel faster alone." I said. "Besides, there's nothing you can do now to stop me."

He placed the empty cup on the small table at his bedside, rubbing his temples and yawning again. "The tea…"

I nodded and smiled. "Ioreth taught me more than you know – I've had some practice with herbs. I wanted to say good-bye though. I couldn't… just leave without…"

I stood, patting down my skirts. Faramir realized now that I was wearing my winter robes – much too heavy for the season but good for a tough journey. They were blue with thick white fur. At some point, they were a gift from the Lord Denethor. I believe they were in my wardrobe of my new room when I received it as a gift…

"Finwen, wait…!"

I took a pillow from him so he had to lie down. He was much too weak from his recent fever and the drugged tea. Faramir closed his eyes and rested his head sideways. I gave him a careful kiss on the forehead and took the cup – my evidence – with me. "I hope I come back for you."

I left the Houses and made for the stables.

* * *

Alatar was more than ready for a journey. The moment he saw me, he was ecstatic. He kicked and bucked and wouldn't stop until I released him from the confines of his stall. I quickly brushed him well and saddled him. I led him by the reins until we reached the bottom level of Minas Tirith.

When my good black horse touched the Earth, he dug his hooves in the dirt as if to test if it was real. I pulled him along as he enjoyed the feel as I had only an hour before.

We wound our way through the tents and to the battle fields that were once lovely Pelennor. Bodies of the creatures that were orcs were scattered about, still being collected for burning. The bodies of men were all but cleared away and buried or burned respectfully. But I was not prepared for the things I would see amid the death.

The armies of Mordor were more than well equipped – seeing their artillery, towers, and great creatures now, I was shocked we had prevailed. Their great catapults were dismembered and the battering rams were left behind. Great mounds of iron were streaked everywhere – I couldn't even fancy a name for the devices.

What mystified me the most was something that was as if it had escaped a dream. Enormous masses of tough skin and long ivory tusks tied with spiked chain and rope lay lifeless in the high grass. I wanted to call them elephants, but they were monsters. Houses sat upon their backs, now tossed aside, and their feet could easily cover the span of Alatar. I couldn't imagine how our soldiers felt, going into battle against such behemoths.

My hand traced along the thick, wrinkled, and cracked grey skin of one of the oliphaunts. I would not know their name until much later, but I would remember the feel. Like stone. It made me wonder what a rock with warm blood would feel like – when it was alive, I would have known. But their time was gone and mine was running out.

I mounted Alatar, straddling him for a moment as I looked back at Minas Tirith. I hadn't brought much with me – but for some bread I filched from the Steward's cache and a canteen of water. I hoped it would last me long enough, but I could go without if I had to. All else was me, my robes, the boots I wore when I came here, and Linius' bow and quiver on my back. I only had five arrows (salvaged from the wreckage about us), but they were a comfort.

I kissed Alatar's neck and patted the thin fur. He anxiously moved his feet underneath us. "I wish you well, my friend. We've one last journey – and we must go alone. Be swift! I fear we are already too late."

My feet gently spurred his sides and I pulled the reins tight to turn him about. Alatar beat his hooves, a shaky start, and then took off as he was meant to away from the city.

* * *

The shadows stretched on the ground underneath us and through the tall grass. It was impossible. Alatar was born for this run – I was born for this ride. We covered seven leagues before the sun disappeared and we still ran. Gondor was almost behind us by midnight.

I hadn't room for thoughts. I was all feel. Logic had abandoned me the moment I awoke from that dream – I couldn't be sure I was awake even now. I was finally listening to myself, making my own decisions. No one was going to tie me down or tell me no. Between the thud of hooves and the chill of the whipping wind, I had found myself and what could be a real purpose for landing in this world that was not my own.

My past was blurred – it may never be clear to me. But some things were just too… wrong. For starters, my name was Sarah. Sarah! It was good to know my name. But that name belonged to a different person. A cockier, snarky person. A person I had grown out of after starting anew. She was an enigma to me, something far off with the rest of my memories, and I actually preferred to leave her there. I didn't know her anymore.

The dialect here was also too strange – I wanted to spit out so many informalities and words I didn't know the meaning of. I wanted to repeatedly use the word 'like' and the phrase 'you know.' These urges were more than difficult to suppress, and I had to assume they were a part of Sarah. I hoped she would leave me be though. I needed to be Finwen now – fearless and fast. So fast…

Stars wheeled overhead and we ran all through the night. Alatar's neck was coated with a cold sweat as the sun peeked over the horizon so I had him rest at a riverbank. I took some bread, filled my canteen, and even dozed off. But our respite did not last. We could not linger – there was a nagging in the back of my mind telling me I was running out of time. If there would be a battle (I didn't even know where it was) it would be soon. I had less than a week to find the eagles.

Alatar and I continued north. Soon, we broke out of our original fatigue of two days of straight riding and found a new rhythm. My horse seemed to sprout wings, flying faster than an arrow. Even the wind seemed to be on our side, blowing strongly behind us, pushing us along. At night, the moon and sister stars would shine bright, lighting our way so we would not need to stop.

For seven days we rode. And then I saw the mountains.

Alatar knew better than I – he navigated expertly up the tight passes, tackling the mountain range head on. The inspiration I had suddenly seemed to blossom in him as well. We were a team in this strange quest of ours.

His hooves clicked noisily as he kept running full speed even up the cliffs and ridges. The sun started to wane, and the impossible ride suddenly became very real. Exhaustion hit the both of us at the same time.

My legs flopped on his sides, my head drooping as I dozed in and out of consciousness. Alatar steadily moved his legs forward with determination, though they shook, threatening to collapse beneath him. The air grew increasingly taught, making it hard to breath at this altitude.

My vision was limited and my mind was steel wool. I blinked my eyes, seeing the ground grow closer.

Alatar stopped.

I slipped from the saddle, feeling my world spin in slow motion. I hadn't even the effort to reach out with my hands, to stop my fall, to grab the horn of the saddle. I fell down to the rock, the bow on my back clattering down next to me.

A great shadow eclipsed the moon.


	41. Flight to the South

**Reminder:: **I only own Finwen/Sarah. And her family. And Linius. And sort of Beleg (not his name). I can't think of anything else that could be mine, so the rest is owned by the Tolkien estate.

I wanted to say another thank you. It's been so long since I started this story, and it's hard to believe sometimes, but I've worked really hard to get here. n_n' I just feel I need to thank you for continuing to read this story – I'm shocked I still get reviews! You guys are great and I wouldn't do this without you. =)

Let's see some rising action, hm? =D

* * *

**Chapter Forty-One :: Flight to the South**

* * *

"You've been so brave, Sarah."

I was roused awake by a gentle, calming voice. I opened my eyes and was immediately blinded in the expanse of pure white light about me. I pushed off of the ground, having fallen face first off of my horse and suddenly feeling I fell into a different time and place. I lifted my head, tossing my mangy hair aside, and looked upon a familiar face.

The woman was rather tall and lean, almost lanky. She smiled despite the tired wrinkles of age forming around her eyes and mouth. Her hair was a light blonde color, the tips only barely touching her shoulders.

Standing beside her was a man with and orangish-blond mop of hair and a straight-backed posture. He was clean of facial hair, and his chin was strong – his jaw line pronounced and very masculine. His eyes were bright and joyous.

The two were a mystery to me. I felt I should know them, but after thousands of years, they were hard to recognize. I sat on the backs of my heels, staring up at them with confusion written on my face.

"This was meant to be a comfort to you." The man stated.

"A familiar face…?" She tried.

I suddenly knew the answer. My amnesia tended to work that way. "My parents? But… who are you? Really?"

The woman smiled, glad I recognized her disguise as my mother. "We have many names, child. I am Elentári, Star-Kindler, Lady of the Stars, Elbereth Gilthoniel. Varda."

"Lord of the West, Elder King, King of the Valar, Mânawenûz, Súlimo, and husband of Varda. I am Manwë." The man answered just as easily.

Well, that sounded like a load of gibberish to me. I sat and watched them, waiting for explanations that would never come. "Why are you here?"

"You followed me." Varda said, the name I chose to know her by. "And you are so close."

"My eagles' descendants are before you." Manwë said, seeming to be much more cut and dry than his wife. "Your journey is not over. The Fields of Cormallen will erupt in war in but two days. The Battle of Morannon is about to begin."

As if to prove it, Varda opened the white space like parting a curtain aside. I stood and peered through the gap, a rip in time to the future.

Down through the stars where we watched, I saw again the ragged mountains holding up the tall black gate from my dreams. This time, the gates were opened wide and thousands of orcs poured out to meet an army vastly out-numbered. The Eye of Sauron, the first time I had ever seen him, watched the battle from his tower in Barad-dûr.

I had only a glimpse, but my heart did not still as I expected when or if I would ever see the Eye. I was safe. I was in the presence of the monarchs of the Valar, something I was still desperately trying to wrap my mind around. My brain was being disobedient, and I could not form any rational questions with my slowed cognitive process. I simply took them to be as they are. Later, I would never truly understand this meeting and I would forget much of it. One thing I would always remember was the sound. Their voices. Could it be _the_ voice? _For this is your chance to live again_…? Somehow I had doubt. There was a higher power still…

The gap in time froze and Varda replaced her stars.

"Time is short. Without the eagles, the realms of men will fall at the Black Gates of the Dark Tower." Manwë made short of things.

"Hurry, Sarah." Varda as my mother said to me. "The fate of the Ring-Bearer lies with you now."

"But will the eagles listen to me?" I finally got one of the millions of questions fogging my brain out. "How will they know I am not deceiving them?"

Varda looked knowingly at her husband and reached out her hand to me. I took it. Going with my question unanswered, by the touch of her hand, I had been thrown with a jolt back into reality. _Was that another dream?_

I picked myself up off the rock in the same manner I just had, experiencing a nasty déjà vu. My hair flicked idly with the passing, cold winds in the frost-bitten air. I blinked my eyes and clenched my fists to regain the sense in my numbed fingers. Linius' bow sat next to me, so I snatched it and pulled myself to a sitting position. Before I could though, I was picked up by a stronger force and left dangling in the air over the precipice where I passed out.

My voice caught in my throat and my lungs skipped a few breaths, my heart a few beats. The giant talons that held my robes by the back were connected to a monstrous eagle with a golden head. Another eagle with darker brown feathers was nearby, inspecting Alatar and coming up behind me to speak with the eagle holding me up.

"What do you suppose this is?" The first eagle asked, so close with its beak large enough to swallow me whole. They spoke in short squawks and grumbles I couldn't understand.

"Obviously a human." The second eagle remarked. I looked around carefully and saw Alatar plastered to the ground in what I hoped to be sleep. "Awake, too."

My breath hitched again as the eagle jerked me higher for inspection. A giant golden eye peered into my face and I squirmed away.

"Oi, you're right. But a little she, it is. What do you suppose we do with her?"

"Wouldn't want to eat her." The second eagle said in a slow grumble. "Couldn't leave her here either."

"Should we take her to the Windlord? He'll know what to do with trespassers – maybe get some words out of her."

The second eagle agreed and I was suddenly shaken. What were they doing? Were they going to eat me? How I was I supposed to communicate with beasts? Was I supposed to miraculously know their language!-?

Frustration and fear built up inside of me as great wings flapped one, two, three times and I was lifted into the air. The second eagle scooped up Alatar, having some difficulty with the weight for a moment before following the eagle carrying me.

Though I figured I could trust the strength of the eagle, I was terrified. We flew at an incredible speed over the mountain canyons, sharp rocks, and dark crevices. I let out a scream now and again when tears brimmed my eyes, but my eagle took no notice. When I would squirm too much, the grip of the giant talons would grow tighter and I would shake slightly. I suppose it was the equivalent of an angry parent on a road trip telling their kids to just shut up and wait until we get there.

Over the last mountain top, so high my nose threatened to bleed, a great eyrie was revealed. Nests made of trunks of trees and whole branches were placed carefully along the rocks and niches. We passed these cliff homes quickly, making our way to a stone outcropping where a great eagle, twice as large as the one that was carrying me (and I thought this one was big!), was perched magnificently on the stone. I half-believed it was a great brown feathered statue until the head slowly turned and I was caught in gilded eyes. Alatar and I were placed at his feet.

The eagles spoke more in their own tongue, making sharp clicking sounds – probably explaining where they found me and asking what to do. The great eagle just listened and stared me down.

I scooted closer to Alatar, glad to see that his eyes were open. He sat awkwardly on his stomach. I pet his neck and cleared his mane from his eyes. "Sh… Sh… I'll get us out of here; don't worry." I whispered. "I just have to figure out how to talk to them… Feel like translating?"

Alatar's big doe eyes stared at me blankly. Guess I was short on options.

I suddenly realized how silent it had become. The eyes of nearly two dozen giant eagles were on me. I shrunk.

Then the largest eagle did something I never expected. He spoke. "What brings you hence, she-human? These lands are forbidden to your folk."

I stared at him stupefied, mouth agape.

"Speak quickly! Your silence does not help your case."

"You can talk!" I said, startled.

"Obviously you can as well." He stated matter-of-factly. "I thought you were dumb."

I shook my head, hardly believing this. "My name is… Finwen."

He didn't appreciate the hesitation. "I am Gwaihir the Windlord. What brings you, Finsen, to my eyrie?"

"Finwen." I corrected him bravely. I gulped all the same. "I… I come for aid."

"Aid? What aid is—?"

Gwaihir was cut off and if eyes weren't glued to me before, they were now. Confused, I looked down at myself and saw a large, friendly-looking Emperor Gum Moth flittered up, circled me, and rested comfortably on my arm.

For some reason, this was a big deal. The eagles cooed to each other and bobbed their heads. Gwaihir ignored them, but his attitude changed drastically. "Speak. What brings you hence?"

I poured my story out as fast as I could. I told him everything I knew about Varda and Manwë, hopefully convincingly, and I spoke of the dreams that led me here to request their assistance. "Please, if you do not help, the battle will grow ill and fail. Men need you—"

"We avoid the conflicts of Men. Leave us be, she-human." Gwaihir said with a slight whistle in his grumbling voice. "We are but peaceful creatures. We cannot fight your war."

Downcast, I slid back to my feet. I had hardly remembered standing up to him, but now I sunk low. Did I really come this far to fail? To ride for eight days straight – to follow a dream – to speak with angels – to parley with eagles – to fail? I felt numb. Was it just me? Did I not present the need well enough? What did I do wrong?

The moth crawled up my arm and rested on my shoulder, admittingly creeping me out. At first that is. I turned my neck and held my finger up to the moth that was the size of my outspread hand. The moth crawled onto my finger balanced itself with the rest of my hand, seeming to sniff me with its large, fuzzy antennas.

An eagle behind Gwaihir had been keeping a close eye on me all the while. He grunted something and Gwaihir turned in what looked like surprise. The two conversed, seemed to argue, and then Gwaihir rattled my bones when he gave out a loud screech. I held my hands to my ears in pain. The moth was scared away by the shout and landed on Alatar's saddle.

The eagle that was slightly smaller than Gwaihir held his ground. He bobbed his head and motioned to me, finally stepping back.

Gwaihir turned to me, a new hostile light in his eyes. "My brother Landroval has taken your side, Small Finwen. If all they can spare is a small she-human like yourself, then the need must indeed be dire… I trust him with my life – if he sees something in you I do not, I will not regret his choice. We will fly with you."

"YES! YES!" I shouted in joy, jumping to my feet and bouncing around. The eagles watched me in confusion and slight amusement as I danced about in victory and excitement. I turned back to Gwaihir. "Gwaihir the Windlord, you will not regret your brother's decision. Thank you! Thank you Landroval! Thank you so much!"

Then I mentioned the battle was only two days away.

A cry went up and the canyon echoed with the eagle's song. I gripped my ears tight again as four other eagles came forward. Gwaihir spoke to them in their own tongue as I waited, a little doubtfully. Will only six make the flight? Would that be enough? I honestly had no room to complain. If Gwaihir saw it fit – six would be plenty.

I ate whatever was left of the bread and downed a good portion of my water. Alatar made his way over to a small patch of snow and improvised. In a matter of minutes, the eagles were ready to go.

There was some argument, but in the end, Landroval was going to take me. I was given the opportunity of sitting on his back. Though it was a clumsy climb, he scraped his belly low to the ground for me and I crawled aboard directly behind his neck.

I didn't want to treat him like an animal, but I patted his neck gently to get his attention. "The real victory is yours – you listened. Thank you for hearing me."

Landroval did not react much, but he held his head a little higher. What could I say? I liked it when the lesser sibling got some leverage.

Gwaihir spread his wings and so did the five behind, lining up along the cliff wall. I looked down as my heart started to thump. Alatar would be left behind.

"W-wait! Wait!" I called frantically.

Gwaihir folded his wings and turned around. He was like the bird equivalent of Mithrandir and I had pressed his nerves enough as it was. He didn't even say anything until I pointed at my horse. "What of it? You said yourself we were pressed for time."

"I cannot leave him." I plead. "He is my dearest friend – one of my last."

"None can bear him. The horse will only slow us."

Tears threatened my eyes, but I was still defiant. I wasn't going to lose Alatar like this – it was ridiculous. I started to dismount Landroval, but Gwaihir stepped forward to stop me, this talons scratching the rock beneath him.

"Stay where you are!"

"I can't! I'd rather ride back on Alatar than leave him behind. I will follow on his mount." I said clearly, finally standing up for myself.

Gwaihir made a strange sound reminiscent of a laugh. I couldn't tell if he was mocking me, but Landroval spoke up. "So be it! You will fly in the back – Landroval is willing to bear you both."

I couldn't contain my excitement. Some genuine kindness! I hugged Landroval about the neck and gave him further praise as he spread his wings.

Gwaihir lifted off with a great gust of wind and the others followed, stretching their own wings in leaving. Landroval pushed off and hovered over Alatar. The moth found my sleeve again and rested there, content to remain on my shoulder for the trip. I didn't mind – and it held some significance with the eagles, so it didn't hurt to have it around. Perhaps it was a gift from Manwë and Varda? I could only guess.

Alatar was taken up in Landroval's claws and we sunk slightly. It would be a hard trip. But Landroval was not to give up so easily. He beat his wings harder and we soon caught up in flight to the rest of the party, the eagles crying beneath as the clouds consumed us all.


	42. The Tower Cracked

**Reminder:: **I do not own this. ASDFJKL:

Happy Memorial Day!

I was on vacation for a few days and although I took my laptop, I couldn't find it in myself to write anything halfway decent. I also recently had my graduation ceremony, so that took a good weekend. This took a little longer than I hoped, but we're so close now, I can practically taste it. Chapter forty-two for you! n_n

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**Chapter Forty-Two :: The Tower Cracked**

* * *

The morning of March 25th.

The eagles moved in a fast, steady thrum. Their wings moved up and down in a symphony on the air. Wind whipped by with the puffs of cloud that were close enough to reach out and touch. I clung close to the warm feathers, closing my eyes and hoping for sleep. The effort was futile – the adrenaline was pumping too fast. I was too anxious for sleep.

Landroval's wings pumped faster than the others. He was burdened not only by me but with Alatar in his talons. Still, he steadily followed the pack. Up and down. Up and down.

We must have made excellent time. My consciousness streamed in and out and my stomach rumbled with hunger, but the ground continued to fly by at an alarming rate. If I would fall, I would hit the ground before these great wings could turn to catch me. The speed was simply too great.

I pushed such thoughts from my mind and set my focus forward.

The sun glinted on the horizon, shimmering on the primary and secondary feathers of the wings like a beacon in the distance. Soon, the world was coated in light. The sun was welcome to me – I was freezing. I dared to sit up straighter and even spread out my arms, soaking in the warm rays.

This was so different from riding Alatar, but it was the same, too. It was like spreading my own wings in a way. I was flying. My heart fluttered and I was lost in the exhilaration of real flight. I had felt a similar sensation when Alatar would run, and I had come close to it on our trip to the eyrie – something I was still trying to wrap my mind around (had I really done that?) – but this was so… real. I couldn't describe how my heart leapt into my mouth when we would dip and when my lungs would catch when I forgot to breathe the quick air. But I would never forget – ever – the feeling of being in the air.

I had never felt more alive.

The next time I opened my eyes, I recognized the long fields of Rohan. The mountains were already looming in the too close distance. We were already here.

Rauros passed underneath us in the blink of an eye and the mountains of Ered Lithui were already looming closer. My vision in a dream opened up before me into reality, giving me a terrible sense of déjà vu. An ant-like army scrambled below before a massive gate opened wide, spilling forth all manners of dark creatures that were swarming over my people. That's what they were now… My people.

Strangely, I had never felt more like I belonged here. I could _be_ here. I finally had a purpose and I was serving it.

But my idle thoughts could not linger long. The moth that rode on my shoulder since the eyrie left me and flew out above the battle. The eagles began a wild descent and already Gwaihir was making a sure dive for one of the fell beasts swooping low. Landroval slowed however and moved closer to the plain.

Alatar was dangling dangerously close to the Earth, his hooves moving frantically beneath him to touch ground. The eagle I rode gently let him go, the horse taking off the second he scraped the dirt. He kicked up clouds of dust and grass, rocketing ahead of us. I had to think that the ride north was Alatar's own purpose, but how did he maintain this speed after all these days? He was like an arrow – and there is no other way to stop an arrow than to hit the target.

The army was forming ahead of us in a shining blur as the sun danced across the swords and armor. Shouts and screams and clashes roared, echoing off the walls of stone into the open field. Landroval maneuvered himself and sped up behind Alatar. I suddenly realized what he was trying to do.

Perhaps it was luck. Perhaps it was divine intervention. Or perhaps I was so exhausted that this actually sounded like a plausible idea. Whatever it was, I soon found myself climbing out and away from Landroval's thick neck and actually jumping backwards, catching the air. My robes flew by and my hair blocked my sight as I fell from the sky and landed on Alatar's back a few feet down. It wasn't exactly an impossible shot, but I would have to have been mad to attempt such a thing ever again.

Alatar shot towards the battlefield where the sounds of war grew louder in our ears. The blue fabric in his knotted mane bounced and stood as an inspiration. Remembering my own clothes, I realized we oddly matched.

My hands tightened and the leather of the reins dug into my palms. Alatar's distant cry of protest rang out for a moment but was drowned out by the other sounds.

We came to a halt.

I physically shook, quaking in the saddle. My bow was taught and itching for a projectile. But I… I couldn't do it. I couldn't go into battle.

There was a crossroads before me and I didn't have time to make the choice. Literally yards from death and judgment, I chose now to think this through. At least my brain was cognitive enough to attempt logic, but… now?-!

I could go into battle. And I could die. I thought of all the people I would leave behind – Ioreth, Faramir, Peregrin, Mithrandir, Taurwen, Mordred, Tristed – but why had this never hindered me before? I felt I was brave enough to ride north alone. Was this beyond me? Battle? War? I was a simple messenger for the Valar to find the eagles. I was no soldier.

Still, I could help. Could I not? Or was my femininity going to be the death of me and whoever I happened to stand next to? That wasn't even fair. Would I be a distraction? Would I fail?

But these decisions were not mine to make. At that moment, God chose for me.

A great smoke cloud followed by a resounding boom threw rocks, ash, and debris through the Black Gate. The very Earth shook and the tremor opened up two large cracks, creating an abyss from the Black Land, swallowing the orcs and creatures of Mordor in seconds that took my breath and ability to blink away.

The shock wave reached Alatar and he stepped backwards as I tumbled in the saddle. I gripped the horn, desperate to stay on. My nails dug deep as the ash laden wind rocked by. When I took a breath, I saw a silhouette running towards me. A very large silhouette.

The idea of a cave troll never crossed my mind. In fact, I had no idea what was coming at me. But the way it ran in blind terror away from the horror of loss sparked something inside that reached my finger tips. I was not about to let him get away. Not a single one.

I strung an arrow, placing it firmly above the nok. I pulled back on the string and brought the edge to my eye. I released and the arrow flew by the creature's head. It missed by a few feet.

I let out a huff and quickly drew another arrow. I squinted in the sunlight at the shadowy figure that was growing steadily closer. I released the arrow. It bounced off the thick hide of the shoulder. Not even noticed.

"…_this is the proper way to hold it, see?" _

Stringing the third arrow, I placed it too hastily and nearly dropped it. I readjusted it and sat straighter in the saddle. I took a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders. I inhaled and let the arrow fly from my fingers. This time, I hit the troll's neck. He wailed but continued to run – maybe faster.

"_You put in the arrow like this, see, so that the shaft won't hit the grip or your hand when you let go."_

By the time I strung my fourth arrow, I didn't have much time to take aim. The gargantuan creature was almost upon me. My heart in my mouth, I released the arrow too quickly out of giddiness and missed by a mile – the shaft flew up and away towards the mountains. Alatar began to whinny and back away quickly, wondering what the hell I was doing just standing there as a cave troll tackled us.

"_Now don't let go of the arrow this time."_ Linius' voice coached me the last time.

Acting quickly, I snapped Alatar's reins and twirled him about to the right. I took my last arrow and jabbed instinctively upwards as the troll darted by, already bleeding through his foot from a nasty stab wound. My arrow struck him in the jugular, landing parallel to the other in his neck. With a wheeze, the creature ran a few more steps, reached for his wind pipe in confusion, and died standing. He fell over with a clank of his armor in the dirt behind me as I watched.

I turned around, my body shaking again with nerves. The bow slipped from my hand and clattered to the ground. The cry of the eagles announcing their victory rose up and the people cheered. The mountain erupted in fire and lava burst forth, silencing the world.

The eagles flapped their wings as I stared dumbfounded before falling from the saddle, succumbing to the exhaustion at last.


	43. Breathe

**Reminder:: **I've said it forty-three times now. This is not mine!

Finally getting to stuff I want to write about. xD I feel like I could write all night like this, but I'm afraid of ruining things with speed.

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**Chapter Forty-Three :: Breathe**

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The shadow was gone.

When I awoke, the sun was streaming through a stone portal. The light rays landed on my blanket covered feet. I sat up groggily, hoping for a cold bath and some warm bread.

My eyes adjusted to the room well enough. I was alone.

I swung my legs over the side of the cot and saw my robes had not been taken from me. No wonder I felt I was being cooked…

Shedding the winter overcoat and left with a slight white dress, I did my hair up over my head and poked my neck into the hallway. The stone was expertly carved and vaguely familiar. I couldn't quite put my finger on it until I reached the end of the cold stair.

I stepped into a fairly large room full of tables and chattering men about without their armor. Drinks were going around as well as songs in an uproarious atmosphere. I blinked my eyes a few times in confusion before I caught the dazzling colors. I was entranced. The waterfall ran in thousands of colors as the sun glittered through the water. Then, all at once, the sun set and the colors disappeared.

I was in Ithilien.

It didn't take me long to recognize I was the only woman in the room and it made me uncomfortable. I shimmied along the wall, avoiding the crowd as much as I could before I found someone I recognized.

"Mithrandir! Mithrandir!" I ran to him, rudely pushing through people and nearly tripping on my skirts. To make more of a scene, I didn't stop when I reached him and wrapped my arms around his tall, white-cloaked frame without hesitation. "I did it! I told you, Mithrandir! The eagles! I found them and brought them for you!"

Shocking me, Mithrandir laughed and gave my back a fatherly pat. I pulled away from him and he rested his hand on my head – I've never felt so short. "Congratulations, Finwen. You have done well – worthy of all the Easterlings' good words."

I smiled wider than I had in months. "And you doubted me…"

"Mind, I barely heard your position before you galloped off." The bearded old man defended himself, leaning on his great staff. "Still you should be proud. It is good to see you about."

I let out a great, un-lady-like yawn and stretched my arms. "Did I sleep all through the day?"

"Quite a bit more than that, I'm afraid." Mithrandir shook his head. "You slept the journey you were gone – today is the second of April by Shire reckoning."

I nearly stumbled backwards. "I slept for… eight days?-!"

"Well deserved." He nodded.

"Was I ill?" I clutched my throat.

"Of course. One loaf of bread and a single canteen of water is hardly enough for the rigorous exercise you chose." He mildly scolded me. "Though you have been in and out of consciousness long enough to take food and water, you have been bedridden."

"I took food and drink?" I asked. I didn't even remember. "Where is Alatar? Is he—?"

"Shockingly, he's quite well. Only Shadowfax, Lord of the Horses, could compare." He said cheerily.

A great weight was lifted from my shoulders to hear the news. Alatar was more than kin – we were connected now. He had been there for me for everything I asked of him. If he had perished on the last great favor I would ask of him, I would have easily cast myself from one of these windows. I could not bear the death of another friend.

"What of Gwaihir and Landroval and the others? Are they well?" I asked.

"Returned home."

"Already?"

Mithrandir's smiling eyes threatened a roll. I've never seen him so… happy. "They would not linger. The eagles keep to themselves. It's a miracle they came at all with the wars in their own lands…"

"The real miracle is the Lady Finwen and her stallion." A strong voice behind me said. I twirled on my heel and came face to face with the Lord Aragorn. "Most horses would have been run to the ground in a night, but yours lasted the journey tenfold."

"Not to mention the cave troll – we thought you were dead!" Little Peregrin ran out from behind him.

"Peregrin! You're here, too?" I asked, smiling down at him. "Oh, come to me, you silly coward – I want a hug from you! I'm so glad you're alive and well!"

The hobbit obliged my request and tugged on my hand. "Come, Lady Finwen! There's a friend or two 'o mine you have to meet."

I hadn't meant to, but I had completely ignored the new king. Whoops. Mithrandir took notice and shushed him. "Patience, Peregrin Took! There is time for introductions."

Taking the opportunity, I quickly curtsied to the Lord Aragorn as I used to for the Steward Denethor. "My apologies, Lord Aragorn. We were never properly introduced. My name is Lady Finwen of Rohan. Named by the Steward and born of the sky. It is a pleasure to be in your presence."

Lord Aragorn nodded to me and I stood up straight. "You are too kind, young Finwen. My thanks to you for your courage and hardship. The honor is mine."

Whatever grievances I held against him that Denethor may have influenced melted. I was still drowsy, ravenously hungry, and he was insanely handsome despite his obvious maturity. Besides, if he fought that battle before the breaking of the world, he deserved every jewel of that long forgotten crown. "I hope to see you crowned before the Citadel soon, my lord. It is an honor to Gondor."

The Lord Aragorn smiled at me, but was soon called away and Pippin was already leading me by the hand again. Before we reached a staircase, a familiar face came up with a cup of mead in hand. "I see they've taught you a thing or two, crazy lady."

"Tristed!" I broke free of Peregrin for a moment and threw my arms about the lanky soldier. I pushed away from him after our quick embrace and looked him over. "You barely look the same without all that heavy armor."

"And you hardly look familiar lying on the ground next to a cave troll loaded with Harad arrows." He countered, but I did not understand. He had to explain to me that the arrows I salvaged off the battle fields of Pelennor belonged to the Haradrim, Southrons, and were poisoned at the tips. Probably why so little arrows were needed to kill the fearsome beast.

"It is so good to see you!" I said. The smile I wore so suddenly seemed to be stuck on my face. "Are you treating Taurwen well?"

"She waits in the Houses." He answered lightly. "Unless she was taken in by some invalid soldier, we're still engaged to be married before summer's end."

"That's wonderful!" I congratulated him, for some reason thinking 'Shakespeare ending' – whatever that was. "Oh, I'm so happy for you—"

"Lady Finwen?" Pippin looked up at me hopefully, saddened to be forgotten.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Tristed, I'm afraid I've somewhere important to be." I apologized.

"Have you heard about Ben—?"

"Yes. I saw him." I nodded grimly, already remembering the decapitated head of our friend.

Tristed laid a hand on my shoulder and sighed. "He was a good man."

"Very good." I agreed and turned to leave with Pippin.

Again, Tristed detained me. He took my hand and kissed it. I stared at him, bewildered. Tristed grinned behind his dark eyes. "I almost forgot - from Mordred. After your errand, you should search for him. He's anxious to see you."

I smiled in what I hoped to be a convincing way and left him to follow Peregrin. The hobbit gave me mocking sideways glances and laughed merrily at me until I slapped him in the back of the head. "It's not like that!"

"Of course not, Lady Finwen." Obviously a jeer.

When I was thinking about tripping him up, Mithrandir's voice scolded us from behind. "If you two would do more walking than bickering the people behind you would be able to get somewhere!"

That sounded more like the Mithrandir I had become acquainted with. I laughed, not bothering to apologize and quickened my pace. The stair ended and we passed down a long hall that was opened to the world on the left. Tree branches moved noisily in the hazy twilight and more cliffs could be seen across the glen. Paths and windows seemed to be in reaching distance, decorating the canyon walls and creating a lovely view that we were forced to simply pass by.

Peregrin was talking animatedly to me while I stared out at the world and hadn't noticed I didn't catch a word. "—really not too bad. Expecting something awful we were! All mess and skin and bones. Once they get some ale down and a good pipe though, they should be right as rain."

Mithrandir filled in the blanks for me. I swear he could read me like a children's book. "The Ring-bearer owes his life to you, Finwen. Had it not been for your eagles, Frodo and Samwise would not be with us."

Not quite sure what to expect and still confused (what was this ring-bearer business?) I decided to ask questions later and learn what I could with open ears.

We were soon upon an open doorway where the stone was smoother and the floor less ruptured. It was a kingly room. Peregrin dashed inside, already jabbering away to introduce me. As usual for Mithrandir, he lingered back and let me go first. He was either the first or the last to enter a room. Silly girl, wizards don't stand in lines.

I took a brave step forward and peered around the corner. Already, I was wringing my hands with nerves to meet such great, accomplished heroes, but what I saw no words could have prepared me for. Propped up by pillows in adjacent beds lay two skeletal hobbits.

My jaw visibly dropped and I could not recover before Mithrandir noticed. Peregrin was still talking as always. "—dy Finwen! She rode for weeks without stop to bring the eagles to battle!"

"That's… an exaggeration." Were my first words I could find. I was not expecting Pippin's friends to be hobbits. Though I suppose it should have been obvious, I had not foreseen this. That the great heroes – the ones who as far as I knew who were responsible for our victory, for the destruction of the Dark Lord Sauron, the slayers of my nightmares – were two Halflings. Two… hobbits… No heroes of legend. No great warriors waving their swords high. But two hobbits. Hobbits. The same folk Pippin spoke so much about. The calm peoples who lived in meadows under trees. The most excitement coming from a fresh mushroom crop. Hobbits.

I smiled politely though my feet rocked me back and forth anxiously. "A few days is all…"

"Now who's being modest?" Pippin scolded me, hands on his hips. He pointed at me furtively and whispered audibly to his friends. "Like Merry this one is. Always with the 'thees' and 'thous' and 'yes, sirs.' Real lady."

I blushed and laughed, but their still faces unnerved me. Only now did I realize that they were sleeping.

Stepping forward for a closer look, I quickly turned back and whispered to the White Wizard: "They're not…?"

He shook his head and spoke quietly as Pippin conversed easily to them. "Sleeping longer than you have only they have not taken the food or drink you were conscious for. They haven't moved since we found them at the foot of the mountain. Peregrin is up here most hours, keeping their company."

Tears were already brimming my eyes at the sight. There was something so familiar about the situation, something that really hit home for me. Someone speaking to a motionless figure not quite dead strewn icily in a neat bed…

I wanted to break down and cry but for Pippin sitting at the foot of the dark haired one's bed. He waved me over as I stepped carefully in front of them.

"Well, say hello, Lady Finwen! Can't keep them waiting all day." He smiled through the silence.

I gave the two a curtsey and decided to act the part. "Pleasure to meet you – it's a genuine honor. I'm afraid I don't know your names to your faces so I cannot address you properly."

He took up the cue. "Oh, that's Sam – Samwise – for you over there." Pippin pointed to the fair-haired hobbit resting quietly. "Shy and stutters faster than a puff 'o smoke travels! Braver than bits he is though. Followed Frodo here all the way. Isn't that right, Frodo? Quite the hero now, aren't we? Bet my Longbottom leaf your head will swell on that one, eh? Ha, ha!"

The one called Frodo had dark brown curly hair like all hobbits, but he seemed slighter than his friend Samwise. As if he was small to begin with. A thick bandage was wrapped tightly around his right hand. There was a space where the third finger should have been.

Pippin gave the coverlet a pat, so I sat down where indicated. "See, Frodo, Lady Finwen doesn't know about all your adventures – neither do I! But she's a bit in the dark, see, so would you mind if I filled her in a bit? I hope you didn't want this story yourself, but we're a bit impatient here for you to open your eyes."

Suddenly I was swept up by Peregrin's voice. I was back in the White Hall listening to the tale of their quest from Rivendell only now the story was for me and the details weren't hidden. I knew now that the mysterious ranger they travelled with was the Lord Aragorn. Frodo, Samwise, Peregrin, and the hobbit Meriadoc travelled with Gandalf the Grey, Aragorn the King, Legolas the Elf, Gimli the Dwarf, and the Boromir I would never know to deliver the object that determined the fate of us all. And Frodo carried it. This Ring. The nine companions climbed mountains, hid from Saruman, delved into the mines (Mithrandir died?-!), scaled through forests, traversed rivers, and finally had to go their separate ways. But I heard more of Pippin's tale. Of great beings called Ents that were walking trees and a great flood washing over the wizard Saruman's poison, and long rides on Shadowfax.

It was a thrilling story, but I had a hard time comprehending half of it. I would much rather have read it or seen it acted out – perhaps then it would make sense to me. Still, I listened and tried to grasp what I could. Mithrandir waited at the door as if he was ready to throw in his two cents when the hobbit didn't give the tale justice.

What confused me the most was the two hobbits before me lying motionless. How could two such quiet, small creatures manage such a thing? What did they owe the world? They were so selfless to go on, to fight for something bigger than themselves. To be willing to die… for people they didn't even know.

A few tears spilled out, but Pippin was too busy storytelling to notice them. He cavorted about the room now, pointing as if the orc was right before him and jabbing with his sword – saving Mithrandir's life. The wizard came up behind me soon enough and placed a hand on my shoulder. I took his hand and let myself finally cry for these two.

Pippin saw me practically sobbing and stopped his story. "Lady Finwen?"

I couldn't answer him, but Mithrandir spoke for me. "You're a better storyteller than you thought, young Peregrin. About time we find the Lady Finwen something to eat, no? We can visit again after she is contented."

Pippin nodded with understanding and left the room, waving behind him in farewell. We began to follow him out, but I lingered. "Mithrandir? They will wake, won't they?"

Looking pained, he let out a great sigh. "None can see the ends of all means. Come – we cannot dwell on such thoughts. They have made it thus far. They will see another day."

The wizard led me out and I finally left the room. I had to admit – some food would be nice.

* * *

After taking some real food and a good glass of ale with Pippin, I decided to make myself useful. There were many wounded and ailing soldiers left in their rooms who were not fit to celebrate with the others. I was a woman of the Houses of Healing after all. I could help.

Though their supply room was nothing short of mediocre, I found some bandages and a few dried herbs that could numb wounds for a time. I carted these things from room to room, knocking the wall first and asking if anyone needed assistance before I offered what little service I could. After I had bandaged three legs, a head, and two arms, I felt fairly confident and more than radiant. I could never be idle – I needed to use my hands to be happy.

I boldly rapped my hands against the stone wall and peered inside a dim room. What I saw was another surprise to me – the Lord Aragorn sat beside a man with bloodied bandages wrapped about his head and sweat on his neck from fever. He had a damp cloth he would wring out and reapply to the man's brow.

I was quiet as a mouse, but the Lord Aragorn looked up anyways. His eyes surveyed my arms full of bandages and herbs. "A healer, too, I see? It's a good thought – he could use the fresh linen."

Though I felt awkward seeing someone who was supposed to be high royalty in but a tunic acting as a healer to a nobody soldier, I went forward and set my things on the cot. The man moaned in his sleep, his delirium and fever a direct result of infection from a large gash along his skull.

I carefully lifted the dark bandages away. The Lord Aragorn acted faster than me and before I could reach for the herbs, he had one crunched in his hand and was already carefully lining the cut. I took a small leaf and did the same, crushing it between my fingers. Soon we had clean bandages wrapped about his head and I held the stranger's hand for awhile to soothe his fears.

"No one mentioned you were a healer." I said softly, staring at the sick man.

"Strange – no one mentioned you were a rider."

I smiled. "You're a good man, if you don't mind my saying so. Though I was made hesitant at first, I am truly proud to call you King."

"Quite a compliment coming from the lady of three countries." He decided with a quiet tone, wringing the cloth out and soaking fresh water into it. "The stories I have heard seem to correlate, however fantastic they may be. You proved them when you brought the eagles, lords of the sky from which I hear tell you hail."

"They _are_ strange stories." I agreed with a nod. "And I cannot tell you which of them are true for I have not heard them retold myself. But… I am too small for such things. Too small for kingdoms and wars. For Captain-Heirs…"

I couldn't explain why I was pouring my heart out to him as freely as I was, but Aragorn took it for what it was worth and he listened. "It seems your heart is loyal to Rohan, but it lies in Gondor. I wish you both well."

The embarrassed smile was imminent. I looked down and collected the bandages and herbs, clearing things away.

The Lord Aragorn left the cloth on the soldier's head and stood, coming around to help me stand as well. "If you're willing, I would like the company of a healer."

I nodded to him and took his hand as he brought me to my feet. Together we went to the next room of wounded.

I hope there are always good people in the world. This world of Middle-Earth.


	44. The Ring Bearer

**Reminder:: **I want this so badly, but I can't claim it because people will come to my house and take all my stuff away and then I'll be sad. =(

APOSKDJFLAJD:FJSD I am so excited for this chapter my hero is in it aaaahh! xD

_So_ _many delays._ But I'm back on track now! Let's finish this within the week, hm? n_n

Again, thanks for reading and reviewing if you have the time!

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**Chapter Forty-Four :: The Ring-Bearer**

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My time in Ithilien was similar to Yuletide. There was constant cheer, messages being sent and received detailing the victory at Cormallen, and impossible quantities of ale and mead being splashed about.

I spent the majority of my days tending to soldiers by myself or with the humble Lord Aragorn. The other half of my time went with Peregrin 'speaking' with Frodo and Samwise. Pippin held them so dear and without his friend Merry (that he constantly talked about) around, they were his only kin. It was only natural he should spend his time with his friends.

I felt sorry about the whole thing, but it was hard to be dreary in such a bright place. I even made sure to stop by the falls every evening to see the rainbow of colors beam before sunset in the water.

Truthfully, I never wanted to leave. It was a peaceful existence with a good dose of raucous celebration. The only thing that could make me wish to go was Faramir and I wasn't sure if I really wanted to see him yet. I thought I would die when I saw him last. How could I face him?

Strange how I have the 'courage' to race north, parley with eagles, and take on cave trolls with a small bow, but I hadn't the nerve to go home and face what should bring me happiness. There was just a nagging feeling at the back of my mind… That… things would never be the same.

I was jolted from my thoughts by a hand on my shoulder. I looked away from the sick man I had first tended with Lord Aragorn. Truthfully, he was doing much better – his fever had gone down and his wounds were slowly being cleansed by the herbs. It had been nearly a week.

Mithrandir stood behind me. "They're awake."

My face lit up with excitement. There was no question to whom he was referring. "Really? They're awake?"

"I told you as much not a moment ago. Aren't those holes on the side of your head working?" He reprimanded.

I leapt up from the stool, knocking it over in the process with a clatter. Running like a child, I left the room and took the familiar stair. The sun beat through the open stone rail of the same hallway to my left. It was nearly evening.

My feet slowed as laughter and excited conversation touched my ears. "—great! Enormous arms came down—" It was none other than Pippin. If I wasn't mistaken, he had made it to the part where he met the strange creature named Treebeard.

I waited outside next to the doorway feeling I didn't belong there at all. A heavy voice within told me strangers were there. My face felt warm and my palms itched and I wanted to sneak away. Perhaps I could come back later when the room wasn't so crowded—

"What are you doing idling outside the door?" Mithrandir briskly came down the hall. My gut clenched with surprise. He motioned with his staff as he neared. "Get on with you, now! A guardsman you look. Quick, before I have you keep the post!"

Swept inside rather, I peered around and was glad to see the Lord Aragorn and Pippin's familiar faces first. A beautiful, tall man with light hair stood next to a stout bearded man with dark eyes beside the Lord. I was barely noticed.

"Oi, we've heard this tale before! Let Mr. Frodo catch his winks, won't you? Long journey he's had." The fair haired hobbit Sam scolded Pippin from his spot. He was already dressed and out of bed, tending to 'Mr. Frodo' like he wasn't ill enough as well.

"Long indeed!" Frodo laughed at the understatement. "You and I both, Sam. Though I feel Pip's been waiting just as long to tell us about the Ents."

They were all very strange creatures. I thought I would be used to hobbits when I would meet them after Peregrin, but seeing three active ones running about made me want to kneel down and be at their height. Silly as it may sound, they seemed like dolls come to life with their own agenda full of 'yes sirs' and lots of pipe weed.

The short man in the corner seemed to be just as amused by them, laughing and clapping his hands gleefully at their dealings. The axe at his side gave me rather a surprise – it was difficult picturing him wielding it as a weapon. He seemed more of a woodsman to me. The beautiful man beside him had pointed ears and a far off gaze, as if he was pining, and ideal posture with a light smile on his lips. It was almost unnerving how perfect he seemed.

"If I may interrupt such a riveting discussion." Mithrandir spoke up. Frodo's eyes lit up upon seeing the wizard and he was given full attention. "I've an important friend to introduce. The Lady Finwen has come to see you Frodo."

I wasn't sure what had been said of me, but it was immediately made clear he knew something. Frodo gave me a kind smile and his eyes softened with sadness. He had the blankets tucked about him and it seemed he had literally just woken up. Sam surprised me most by jumping nearly out of his skin at the mention of my name and coming around the side of Frodo's bed to shake my hand in proper hobbit fashion.

"Gandalf tells me you brought the eagles." Frodo said.

Sam nodded frantically in agreement, trying not to look me up and down while still holding my hand and shaking it. "Brought the eagles!" He said in disbelief. "If you don't mind me saying, milady, but you're a bit slight and fair to be riding that far – all by yourself!"

I smiled at him, not quite sure what to say but I felt flattered. "I… only wished to do my part. I'm glad I could change the course of so large a history with but a simple task."

"Simple! Saved Mr. Frodo and myself, you did! You're a hero!" Samwise insisted.

"I'm not… Why, if anyone is, it would be the two of you – not me!"

I finally pulled my hand away, when the Lord Aragorn distracted him for a moment. "We have all done our part, but the Lady is right. The world of Middle-Earth owes the entirety of its debt to you."

"Heroes!" The dwarf Gimli (as I would soon understand) exclaimed, coming about and clapping Sam on the back though he was truly not that much taller. "Always welcome to the Lonely Mountain. For feasts as big as the halls themselves!"

"And the realms of the wood-elves in Mirkwood." The one who must be Legolas added. "They will sing songs of you until the stars die!"

"I reckon right about anywhere you should be welcome!" Pippin said.

"One would be surprised where they are welcomed the least." Mithrandir warned. "Places once known and loved… But come! This is a time for celebration – the Ring-bearers breathe the free air! I expect they are quite fatigued after so many stories – Samwise, back to bed with you! Up and about causing a fuss like an old woman of the Houses."

"Oh, but I didn't tell Frodo about—" Pippin began, ready to act out his yarn.

"Gandalf is right – they need their rest. Stories may be retold in the morning." Aragorn placed a firm hand on Pippin's shoulder. Though disappointed, Peregrin listened and shuffled out of the room.

Gimli passed me by with a nod and what he probably supposed to be a friendly smile (that I took as a near grimace) on his way out the door. Legolas was next and I couldn't help but feel my heart skip a beat when he smiled at me. It should be illegal to be that gorgeous – but I feel I'd be disappointed to have never seen such grace.

"—You've quite a shot, Lady Finwen. My people would be pleased to meet you." I realized almost too late that he was speaking to me.

"Th-thank you…" I managed as he left the room, impressive bow and quiver still strung on his back. So drool worthy it was pathetic! Honestly, he was just being friendly… Was this my first taste of an elf? What would I do with myself when there were hoards of them before the city? I suddenly wished for more of Gimli's folk. They were less intimidating with their beady eyes, strong arms, and battle axes.

Mithrandir lingered as I was the last to be shown out. Samwise was doing his part under the watchful eye of the wizard and had started to remove his vest. He saw me there and turned red as a beet and pretended to adjust the button before patting his thighs with decision. "Well, things look all in order! I suppose we had better get some more sleep, eh, Mr. Frodo?"

But Frodo was already sound asleep, his head askew on his pillow as he leant towards his shoulder in dreams. I waved to Samwise who held up a hand with a thick grin. I ducked into the hall and Mithrandir only followed suit after he had seen that Sam would relax and leave things alone as he promised.

The wizard and I walked down the quiet stone hall together with only our feet and his staff's steady clink for conversation. He was the first to speak. "A bit nervous, are we?"

"I blame the elf." I blatantly stated, grabbing a lock of hair to finger in embarrassment.

Mithrandir couldn't contain the smile. "And what of the hobbits? The heroes you expected?"

"They're rather adorable, actually." I gave him a sideways grin. "Certainly not the warriors I pictured. But… now I cannot remember those I had imagined. When I first saw Frodo and Samwise as they slept, my heart decided it truly could not have been anyone else."

He nodded, mulling over what I had said. We descended the tight stair and the men who were still drinking to the victory were roaring out songs of old and ones made up on the spot in a slur below us. I was soon whisked away into the crowd, passing through to the other side of the hall where I could find my own room with a cot. This would be one of the last days for festivities because preparations had to be made to leave Ithilien and return to Minas Tirith now that the Ring-bearers were awake.

I let out a yawn and about barged into my room when I saw a silhouette coming from a candle I know I didn't leave burning. Besides, I had left all my care things in that sick man's room – I was so excited to see Frodo and Samwise I had literally dropped everything and ran. I hadn't been in my room all day.

Of course, I was extremely cautious as I peered around the corner. Heaven only knows how much mead was going around… I didn't know what I would find.

What I found was Mordred. Honestly, I didn't even know he came to the Fields of Cormallen. He hadn't seen me come in and was facing the opposite wall. He knelt on his right knee, shook his head, and tried his left. He decided that was no good either and went back to his right.

Thoroughly confused, I watched for a few more moments as he silently… knelt and pretended to speak. It was bizarre. There was something familiar about the way he held out his hand like he was holding something or someone else's and… why would he be on one knee…?

Oh my God. I have to get out of here—

Mordred suddenly turned, probably hearing my involuntary squeak of terror. "Finwen! You're back!"

He stood faster than I could walk away or even hide my shock and horror. Tears were already springing to my eyes. I rubbed my sleeve over my face and greeted him with a false smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I haven't been waiting long, but I only finally got the courage – er – got around to seeing you! I was at the battle. At Cormallen. And so were you! I heard all the stories already – scared me half to death when they found you! I was there, too. But enough of that! Are you alright? You look a little pale. Do you need to sit down?" He rambled, seemingly in one deep breath.

"I'm just a bit tired—"

"You look pale. You should sit." Mordred drew out a chair from his peripheral vision.

"Perhaps we should both sit down…" I compromised, sitting on my bed.

Mordred reluctantly took the chair with a nod and then stood up suddenly. Seeing me stare at him, he sat back down again and rubbed the palms of his hands on his knees.

I took a deep breath, deciding to get this over with before he could say anything. "I think, Mor—"

"I've been doing quite a bit of thinking." He cut in, not hearing me at all.

"I understand, but—"

"I know I've been a bit bold, but I don't think I've been blunt enough. I want to make my intentions clear—"

"Mordred, you're not listening—"

"—and to be quite frank—"

"—I don't feel that way—"

"—I'd like you to—"

"Mordred!" I stood up with a shout.

"—marry…" He looked up at me, confused and a bit distraught. Mordred was reaching for my hand before I had my little outburst, but I had had quite enough and pulled myself away.

I said it as quickly as I thought it, but I didn't have the heart to look him in the eye. I kept my eyes shut tight and my head low. "Mordred, I don't feel that way about you. I cannot accept. I'm sorry."

There was utter silence for a long time. A moment that I would forever remember and dread upon recall.

Mordred finally sighed and stood up slowly. I opened my eyes and saw him tightening his gauntlets in a busy, offhanded manner. "You're right. I suspected all along. I can't really blame you – what I am I compared to the great Captain Heir?"

My face turned crimson, but I wasn't sure if it was in anger or embarrassment that he had guessed correctly. Was I that obvious? "Mordred, please don't be angry with me… I didn't mean to say—"

He gave me a bitter smirk. "Didn't mean to say what? Exactly what you wanted to say? Was a little strange – you know, considering you're a lady of the court and all. I suppose marrying him won't give you that liberty. What a shame."

Mordred turned on his heel and exited the room in a huff. I called out to him. "Mordred! Please! It's not like that – he doesn't even… Please don't be sour about this – we can still see each other, right?"

He threw me a wave. It was all so fast. "Good-bye, crazy lady. I've been mad since I saw you – perhaps now I can clear my head."

I sat down on my bed with a plop. For the next half hour, I stared at the doorway in a mixture of worry, sadness, and anger as the men still sang their songs that echoed through the halls of stone.

That was obviously a 'no.'


	45. The King

**Reminder:: **Almost not ever really has tried to be mine. Sentence of little sense is a poor disclaimer.

Get ready for a little change of perspective this chapter. Nothing to be intimidated by – we'll be back inside Finwen's silly head again soon. =)

This is by far the shortest installment. I might put up a longer chapter tonight if I finish in time~

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**Chapter Forty-Five :: The King**

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It was the first of May when Ithilien was behind them. Meriadoc had joined the party days after the Ring-Bearers awoke, much to the excitement of young Peregrin Took. The four hobbits now travelled together for the first time in months. They and those left of the Fellowship rode on ponies and horses close behind the forefront of the glittering army. The silver armor of Gondor shone bright in the sun, but the deep green and gilded shields of the Rohirrim could not be mistaken in the union before Minas Tirith.

Before the City walls gathered the thousands. Voices rang in victory and praise as the riders neared to bring the King to his Court. Home after millennia of absence. The colors of garments and the array of flowers lit the very stone and gave new life to the faithless who somehow remained faithful in the end.

The Lord Faramir came through the gate of the City as did Hurin of the Keys. Waiting with the marshals, riders of the Mark, and the nobles of the court was the White Lady of Rohan. A trumpet rang out and there was silence. Away from the masses came the Dúnedain and at their lead the Lord Aragorn. Stepping forward with him were Eomer, Prince Imrahil, Gandalf, and the four strange little Halflings that were a wonder to all.

Before the Gate, Aragorn made Faramir Steward of the Realm. And then the Steward did ask of his people that they accept the Lord Aragorn and a great cheer of approval went round. And so the White Crown that was taken from the vaults was born by Faramir to Aragorn. Aragorn so wished and so was done that the Ring-bearer Frodo bear this one last burden. The hobbit Frodo stepped forward before them all, received the White Crown from Faramir, and handed it so to Gandalf the White who placed it upon the King's brow.

The silence endured for his glory or for disbelief that the day had come. Then Faramir rose with a cry. "Behold the King!" and the trumpets rang all at once for the King Elessar and the people's voices rose as one in praise.

As a herald brought through, the King was presented before Minas Tirith and passed through the gates into his own.

And little Lady Finwen was still in wonder that she rode beside Gimli son of Glóin, to be the Lord of the Glittering Caves, and Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm. She would never have counted herself among the many people around her who were nothing short of incredible.

Though she was lifted in the excitement and joy, Finwen was filled with curiosity and was slightly dismayed. For her heart ached to see the White Lady of Rohan, so beautiful and pure and strong and bright beside the Lord and Steward Faramir.


	46. At the Close

**Reminder:: **Jeepers, this isn't mine still.

Thank you for reading!

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**Chapter Forty-Six :: At the Close**

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I didn't get the chance to see anyone I used to know until weeks later. The City was in such an uproar and plans for repairs were immediately being put into place. The general clean-up lasted through the month of June. And still, I was kept apart.

Personally, I didn't feel I was ignored… on purpose. But I knew my uses and they were few – as did everyone else. So I sat in a little room by myself to patch clothes. And ruminate.

That woman I saw… So fair. So strong. And yet she couldn't have been more than three years my senior. So young! And how she looked at the Lord Faramir…

I could never dwell long on these thoughts. It made something in my chest feel funny. Like my lungs twisted up so I couldn't breathe.

But when I tried to get my mind off the mysterious woman, my next thought would be Mordred. Thoughts of Mordred were always accompanied by waves of guilt. It wasn't fair. On either end. I didn't love him, so how could I honestly marry him? But couldn't I just get over myself? Obviously my chances with the Lord Faramir have dwindled because of – no! Not going back to that. It's only a suspicion anyways. What if I could force myself to love Mordred? Is that possible? What do women in arranged marriages do? Well, shouldn't I know? I was to wed Boromir! Good God, Finwen, pull yourself together. Stop acting like such a little girl…

I yelped and stood suddenly – I had pricked myself with the needle in my silent fury. I kissed my finger where the blood spotted. Looking down, I saw that the tunic I had been sewing back together had a drop of my blood on the shirt's front. Well… Who would honestly notice? There were buckets of blood only weeks before this…

Strange how war can pass so quickly. How quickly I can become idle! I picked up the tunic and was about to sit back down when there was a timid knock at my door.

Setting aside my sewing things on the chair, I tousled my hair a bit and opened the door.

I was used to this by now. After staring straight ahead and finding nothing, I looked down with a smile.

None other than Peregrin Took awaited me, rocking back and forth on his heels before he noticed I had opened the door. Quick as a rabbit, he straightened up like the professional little soldier Denethor taught him to be.

"Why, hello, Master Peregrin. Is there anything I can do for you?" I asked in my most pleasant manner, probably giving away my melancholy.

Pippin screwed up his eyes as if he suspected my sarcasm, but he ignored it just as fast. With a bright smile, he said: "Hullo, Lady! Was out in the gardens and was wondering if you'd like to join us. For a round of smoke and stories. Though I don't think you smoke…"

"That sounds lovely." I agreed to a break before he could make things awkward. Feeling a little off in something more of a smock than a dress for a lady, I followed the hobbit away from my small room and down the corridor.

I couldn't help but watch him out of the corner of my eye as we walked. So… jolly. And surprisingly confident in all he did. Of course, Pippin could be shy or downcast, but those were only nerves. Everybody had nerves. This was a very brave, true man at my side. Though now that I said 'man,' I've confused myself. He is a brave, true hobbit. But that didn't sound right either. He should be something more.

Suddenly, I was voicing these thoughts aloud, apparently grown in confidence myself. "Thank you, Peregrin, for coming. My mind was… growing idle. You're very good to me."

"Oh!" The hobbit waved it off, his face pink. "The stories weren't half as fun without you there. You still need to tell them all about the eagles!"

"Them?" I asked.

"Oh, just us." He said vaguely. He counted on his fingers. "Last I was there it was me and Merry, Sam was buzzing around Frodo still… ah, the elf Legolas was around though he wasn't a big fan of smoking and Gimli was smoking the most."

What a crowd. I suddenly found myself nervous again, especially to see the elf prince Legolas. It was so easy to make a fool of myself! Perhaps if I just pretended he wasn't there in all his shining elf glory, I can get a few un-fumbled words out…

"Lady Finwen? You look a bit… off." Pippin commented.

Thinking about what I was doing (wringing my skirt with my hands and biting my lip), I really couldn't have made it more obvious that I was having a hard time lately than if I had just shouted it so. I'M SICK OF DRAMA. Like that.

I smiled up at the little hobbit who was quite a ways ahead of me as we ascended a steep staircase. "If I could be so bold, I wish I would have been born three feet shorter if it had meant I would have known you better. The hobbit lady who ensnares you must surely be a princess of the Shire." Truly, he was the nicest person I had met so far and he was still being kind and caring though I could have been set well out of the way long ago.

Blushing, but not as bad as the Master Samwise, Pippin said: "Such a compliment from a lady! Could you repeat that in front of Merry? He'd never believe me otherwise."

I laughed and nodded, catching up to him on the steps. We walked for a bit in happy company before the sun shone through a stone arch and greenery blossomed up. The garden was scarcely furnished with more benches of marble than leaves in the few trees, but in a few years the flowers could grow again and the hedges and rows would be full enough to please a king.

This was the discussion we had walked in upon, the dwarf Gimli arguing against the stonework as he laid out plans to rebuild and redesign Minas Tirith as a whole. Though quiet and looking towards the sea at times, Legolas spoke of tall trees and flowers on vines he could have brought to give new life to the City. Only now did I realize we were in one of the gardens of the Houses of Healing. This is where I would come with Huan.

After having a look around before anyone noticed me, I was slightly disappointed not to see Frodo. I had hoped to be better acquainted with the little hero. Samwise, on the other hand, was sitting against a ruddy little tree with a pipe in his mouth and Pippin's friend Merry was stretched out on a bench smoking and facing the sky.

"Have you gone to sleep? Is this what you do when I'm not around for entertainment?" Pippin teased, pushing Merry enough off the bench to sit down himself.

Merry sat up, straddling the bench, and gave him a haughty look. "It's all the sleep I can get, Pip. You run your mouth day and night!"

The hobbit looked past Peregrin and saw me standing under the arch. I must've meant something because Merry scowled and handed Peregrin his pinch pouch of pipe weed (say that five times fast!). Apparently, he didn't think Pippin could actually convince me to come. Oh, hobbits…

Used to being introduced, I felt awkward as it grew quiet and I stumbled rather and chose a bench on the opposite side of the court. I leaned back on my hands and looked out at the darkening sky. "Soon, the sun will have gone to bed and the stars will shine…"

"Do you not see the stars often, Lady Finwen?" Merry piped up. (I didn't intend for that to be a pun…)

I shook my head in the negative. "Not in a long time. When I first came here, the moon was full and I watched its light pour out over the City's walls and alleys. It was beautiful. But the Shadow must've followed me, for I have not had many glimpses of the night sky since."

Gimli ceased his ramblings on the poor architecture and his dwarven experience and looked skyward, too. "Ay, the stars have been few and dim. For a long, long time."

"But the clouds have passed." Legolas reminded. Almost as if to prove it, the sun sank just enough so that a lone star could be spotted in the navy mat above our heads. "Elendil…"

The star still shone bright though the purples, pinks, and oranges of the sunset burned on the horizon, begging for the same attention. I knew I would never see her again in my heart, but I couldn't help but wish to catch a glimpse of the Lady of the Stars, twirling her skirts and her massive locks of hair tumbling down her back with the shimmering light of the cosmos as her train.

I let out a sigh and took to watching the sun pass.

Of course, Pippin soon grew bored of that and began prodding for more stories. I hadn't realized how countless they were – any one of us could have gone on rambling throughout the night. I spoke some of my ride North when prompted and answered their questions, but my story-telling skills weren't the best and I had told all I could tell in only a few minutes, really squashing all interest from it and making it sound far from glorious or difficult or dangerous. I made it sound like a trip to the store to buy a pair of shoes. Whoopee. But the next story was to be told by Master Meriadoc.

I listened as intently as I could, but my ears could not catch all of it. I was too distracted. But Merry told of his time in Rohan and my heart was warmed by the familiar sights and sounds of horses and open fields. I had been in the stone cage of Minas Tirith for too long.

Merry, a small hobbit, rode beside the King Théoden. It was an enthralling story filled with remorse for the deceased monarch and it was exciting to hear about the preparations for war and the days of riding.

Then he mentioned Dernhelm.

"You mean the Lady Eowyn rode in disguise? As a man?" Pippin asked, not hearing this part of the story before.

Meriadoc nodded grimly. "She said she'd do anything to ride by her uncle's side. And she meant it."

"That was very brave of her." I commented.

"Her loyalty was with the king – no doubt!" Merry quickly agreed. "Bravest and fairest of all."

He went on to describe how the Lady Eowyn rode with Merry in the Fields of Pelennor. When I was fussing over the Lord Denethor, Eowyn's uncle was slain by the fearsome Witch-King of Angmar. I had seen him at the gate. Heard his voice. When he left, I felt there was no greater blessing than that he and his beast were gone. I had no idea he had left me… and attacked her.

The more Merry said, the better the picture of Eowyn seemed to be. When the fell beast, terrible and foul stood over King Théoden in rank victory, the Lady sprung between them. She lopped the head off the creature and with Merry's help, actually destroyed the Witch-King. Such a great task left her fatigued and indisposed in the Houses of Healing. Where I left Faramir.

"And after all I heard, the Steward Faramir and the Lady will be married. After arrangements can be made with her brother and her uncle's laid to rest." Merry concluded his tale with gossip.

I remained silent as the others gave their consent. It was still bizarre to hear 'Steward Faramir' let alone talk of him and Eowyn. So much for all I knew…

"Are you well, Lady? You've grown pale." Legolas said, focusing attention on me.

For once I didn't stammer when I answered him. I suppose it was good practice – what with word that a whole troupe of elves was to enter the City any day now. I would need to keep a level head around all the beauty and wonder and speaking to Legolas was good preparation for that. "I'm afraid I've grown chill. I've been inside stone walls for too long. I miss Ithilien already, it seems…" I said with a smile.

"Look." Luckily, Sam took the attention off of me and up towards a balcony. Heads turned upwards in synchronization to see a small silhouette leaning against the rail. I immediately feared the Lady Eowyn – being a ninny (why should I fear her?) – but the shadow was much too small.

Frodo looked out as the last sliver of sun left and the world grew dark. He awkwardly held his shoulder, not a typical position one would recline in I realized. I had actually remembered part of his story though and decided that was the spot he was stabbed on the place called Weathertop. The hobbit sighed, not seeing us below him, and held an invisible object at his neck. As soon as he had come out, he went back inside.

Sometime while we watched him, Samwise had left us. The little tree was vacant where he sat.

We were all very quiet for awhile. Finally, Pippin spoke up and said to seemingly no one: "Everything will be different now… We can't go back. Can we?"

Soon, Merry claimed he was off to bed. Pippin went with him though he insisted they find something to eat first. Gimli followed them out – now that the hobbits were gone, he wasn't quite sure what to do. Legolas lingered, not one for sleeping long hours as we, and was content watching the sky and the distant river that would lead to an open ocean.

So I departed after the dwarf and took the winding path back towards my room. It wasn't my old room. I had about a dozen rooms here… always moving me about. I suppose nothing has really been mine.

The halls were dark but for simple candlelight. I was too focused on my monotonously moving shoes that I didn't realize I had gone too far, well past my room. I was in a long, wide hall with an elaborate carpet going down the center. I had never been here before.

Right when I was about to explore or turn back, a voice called out to me from a lit doorway. "Finwen?"

Recognizing the voice, my throat turned dry. I tried to swallow, found I couldn't, and so hung in silence. I stared blankly at the silhouette until they approached me. "Hello."

Faramir smiled, seeing it was me. "Finwen! I've… You're mad to do the things you have done! Mithrandir… told me everything. You are lucky to be alive."

"As are we all. But I've heard more terrible stories than my own." I remarked, blatantly thinking of Eowyn. Since when did I have such… self-assurance? "That is a nicely crafted rod you carry."

The Lord Faramir looked down and examined the rod, unnecessarily explaining to me it was the mark of the Steward. I knew of course – I had seen Denethor with it before and I had seen it handed back to Faramir by the King Elessar. But apparently I was still the ignorant little girl locked up in her room to him.

My thoughts grew bitterer as his explanation ended and the silence grew. I didn't bother asking where I was or why he was here, too, but I figured he was plenty busy. He hadn't seen me since that day in the Houses… and as he said: Mithrandir told him I was alright. Still, he did not look for me… But I had not been fair. Did I look for him? No.

"Well, I must be off." I announced and curtsied with my next statement. "I wish you well, Steward. May you be ever joyous in your union with the Lady of Rohan."

His eyes were confused, but he seemed unnerved all the same. I could hide my sarcasm from Pippin, but I could not from Faramir. "Finwen? …You are displeased."

I smiled brightly and shook my head. "As I remember, we both enjoy the art of reading people. But I'm afraid you've misread me, my lord. For… I am betrothed as well. To Sir Mordred."

Faramir rose his eyebrows, but he gave me a smile of congratulations. "I too wish you well in your union, Finwen. I have always… wished you well."

Now that he had openly admitted his affiance to Eowyn, I felt it coming. I nodded and blurted out again: "It seems we've both found happiness, hm? Good-bye."

Turning on my heel, I walked back down the hall from where I came. Once I made the corner, I quickly wiped away the tears that were already betraying me, but I was forced to run as they began to stream down my face. It was lucky I found my door with such terrible sight, but after the door closed, I collapsed in a huddle on the floor and finally let the tears go.

I wasn't sure how long I cried. My eyes were dry and my knees were wet where I had hid. Standing up in a daze, I looked about the room. I opened the closet and saw two dresses. Not mine. The ones from Yuletide were lost somewhere in the City. The bow and quiver – Linius'. Even the boots on my feet belonged to Linius. The smock I wore belonged to the Houses. Alatar was… close, but I couldn't really _own_ a horse. He was a companion. A friend. He wasn't _mine_. Hell, the blue that labeled him that was still tangled in his mane wasn't mine. It was Alatar's. My name wasn't mine! Finwen was some fancy of Denethor.

"My name is Sarah!" I shouted to nobody, giving my wardrobe a swift punch. That hurt too much – my knuckles started to tingle as pain blossomed and blood vessels popped. As an alternative, I leapt onto my bed and started beating the hell out of my lumpy pillow.

Downy feathers fluttered and straw fell out of the side as I whacked it and cursed it for being a pillow. "Damn this world! Damn it all! The bow isn't mine! The dresses aren't mine! THIS. ISN'T. MINE!"

I threw the pillow against the wall and it erupted in a flurry as the last of its contents spilled out on the floor. I fell back against the headboard of the small bed and dug my hands into my face. "Do I own nothing…?"

Not for the first time, I felt I didn't belong. This was some stupid story that the author kept ripping me out of. I had no purpose – not anymore. I was just some twist to keep the plot moving. But I was disposable. I was done.

"I need to get out of here…"


	47. The Elves

**Reminder:: **Nuuupe.

I'm rolling out these chapters a little faster now. We're so close! I'm almost kind of sad…

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**Chapter Forty-Seven :: The Elves**

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I had been invited, but I was a little wary. After all, I was a bit unstable and a room full of elves certainly didn't feel like a remedy for stress.

Still, I found myself in the nicer of the two dresses that were in my wardrobe and seated after the wedding ceremony at a long table with people who I assumed to be nobility. Many of them I did not recognize, but a few were the same old nobles under Denethor. More than half of them, to me, appeared to be those of the Dúnedain. The men of the north. Bright eyes, dark hair, and grim mouths. They were friends and kin of the King Elessar though, so I was honored to be seated with them. …Even if they terrified me somewhat.

The loose, hanging green threads of my dress told everyone I had picked more at my sleeves than my food. I looked up and down the table at those eating and fancied a glance to the front. King Elessar had wedded the elf Arwen on Mid-year's Day and the newlyweds sat before us all at the high table. Of course, they had been married in private and this was just a celebratory feast, but I still couldn't help but wish I was there. I was thankful, too – I was sick of love and romance and the whole lot, but these two made me regret I felt that way. Arwen was the most beautiful woman I had seen next to Varda and I would never change that statement. It wasn't so much as her physical beauty (which was a marvel in itself – she was considered breath-taking amongst _elves!_) but also her winning smile and hospitality that made her an excellent match for our benevolent king. No other could take her place beside him nor deserve the spot.

Sitting in his father's chair was the object of my thoughts, so I quickly passed over him. I let my eyes linger a bit longer on the empty chair at his side. She had departed for a time, for Edoras would soon lose her company forever. The Lady Eowyn was promised a chair next to Faramir in Ithilien – his princedom. And until then, all chairs beside Faramir would remain empty.

It was strange not being at the high table, but I really couldn't ask for more. As I thought this, the seat on my right was vacated. I hadn't known who was sitting there, but in a split second another body occupied the chair.

Turning rather awkwardly, feeling their eyes on me, I smiled as an introduction. The man who was beside me was very tall and gangly. He wore robes of a peculiar nature that seemed hardly fit for a wedding party – a dark, jaunty vest with a loose shirt, pants that reached the floor, and what looked to be suede shoes or moccasins. The excessive use of fur and the absence of headwear struck a chord with me. Did I know this person? He had dark hair and dark eyes to match, and his beard could only be described as fun. It was long and curled and it scratched his torso when he moved his mouth. Is this a Middle-Earth hipster?

"Lady 'Finwen,' I am so pleased to meet you. You've no idea what an honor it truly is!" His voice was deep and guttural, not used to speaking our tongue. But the way he said my name sounded like a tease of a well-kept secret. Like it was ironic my name was Finwen. All he had to do was wink obnoxiously to complete the picture of absurd secrecy.

I scrunched my nose in thought. "I'm sorry… Do I know you?" _How did he know my name? And why was he… smiling at me like that?_

"Of course not! Oh, but I know all about _you._" He nodded, making me cringe slightly. _What the hell…?_ "You're the girl who fell from the sky… And look at you! Much more lovely than the Teachers foretold. They did you an ill justice, Eru's Child."

Head spinning, I couldn't help giving him an incredulous look. "Wh-what? You're…! You're one of those… those—"

"Prophets? Why yes, I am." He confirmed. "I've been telling your story across the land. The original Teachers who survived your camp say your body was missing from the wreckage and that you truly escaped – off to win the war! I never thought I would look upon your face… I travelled so many leagues when I heard rumor you were in the White City. Why, a good friend of mine was last seen in Dunland spreading the—"

"Are you daft? I'm no… no Eru's Child!" I stuttered, feeling overwhelmed.

"You're too modest, dear Messiah." The stranger shook his head, giving me another title. "And we've been warned that you would try to hide your true identity – whether it be amnesia, mistaken identity—"

"I am not the Messiah!"

"—blatant denial… It's alright, Daughter. I understand! But the Shadow has passed. You don't need to hide anymore! Passed because of you, no doubt! Eh? Eh?"

I stared at this man's excitable face with nothing short of disappointment. "Is it really… that hard to accept?" I looked to the high table and he followed my gaze. The four hobbits ate side by side and eat they certainly did. Except Frodo of course, but he wasn't exactly a typical hobbit anymore. I turned back to the Easterling. "I have done nothing worthy of glory. Of course, some have attempted to argue this, but what more can you ask of _them? _I can mend clothes and I can do my part, but these warriors are so scarred after righting the world – they've lost what was theirs and what they believed and what they thought they knew. There. That is where you should put your thanks and your hope and your faith. That is your Messiah."

I suppose I was harsh, but I had quite enough of such nonsense. I stood from my seat, bid him a good day (though I'm afraid he heard nothing of what I said – still rambling on about 'Daughter' and 'Child' and all that), and quickly left the table.

The conversation went unchecked by anyone, but one person. I felt eyes on me as I made my way down the aisle of chairs and spun around as I felt the presence. When I turned, what I saw baffled me.

A beautiful she-elf with hair of gold and white linens about her person was quietly sitting at the high table beside Elrond, who was Arwen's father. She was as lovely as a new morning. I stared at her for a moment in what felt like shock and awe until she met my gaze. Her eyes felt familiar as she looked at me and I knew she had somehow heard my talk with the Easterling across the hall. Though I was far from her, I could hear her voice… _in my head_.

_Daughter of Eru? _Her tone was questioning, curious.

I only had enough time to tilt my head in confusion before I was quite literally assaulted with visions. Almost as if she tapped some sort of faucet of memory in my brain, I held my head - nauseas by the sudden knowledge of names, places, dates, objects, animals, sciences, mathematics, clothes, electronics. These things completely flooded my mind.

_Interesting…_

As soon as it started, it had stopped and was gone. I was left with a sinking feeling that I was forgetting something important. I looked back up at the elf, but she was speaking with someone next to her, as if she hadn't just read my mind or anything. Completely innocent and unaware.

I stumbled from the hall in a stupor, trying to remember the things she read from me.

* * *

Celeborn turned to his wife at the high table. She was barely bothering with her food and as usual, she was perusing the hall with her careful eyes. They lingered a moment too long on one girl who looked helplessly confused. A second later, the girl broke the contact with a shake of her head and fled from the room.

"Who was the girl?" Celeborn asked casually.

Galadriel gave out a whisper of a response. "A human girl… named Sarah."

"What a strange name." He said. "What did you speak of?"

"Many things." She answered vaguely. The mortal girl now well out of sight, Galadriel let out a small sigh. "Very interesting… She confuses me."

"How so?" Celeborn asked. He did not hear this from his wife often.

"I cannot say." She said. "She does not yet realize how blessed she is… To be given the chance to live again."


	48. Banners in the Distance

**Reminder:: **When did my disclaimers become so angst-y? This stuff does not belong to me. That's all you really need to know.

Almost… There…

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**Chapter Forty-Eight :: Banners in the Distance**

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I may never know the reasons behind my words. From my outburst to that poor Easterling in the dining hall moments before to the night I told Faramir I was to wed Mordred – an obvious lie. Was I scared? Was I weak? Whatever I was, there was one thing I wasn't. I refused to be. And that was alone.

The street became more familiar and soon I could even remember the cobblestones beneath my feet. One was displaced and rose slightly up from the street, a great tripping machine, right before the door.

I almost knocked, but I remembered that was unnecessary here. Pushing the portal wide, I was greeted by silence.

The sun glittered in dusty rays onto the floor, so reminiscent of the day I first came. I went around the main room, just checking to make sure everything was in its place. It was all there. Nothing had changed. For once.

In the past few weeks, I had seen a King crowned, a Steward appointed, and even a new sapling of the White Tree planted. It would not have surprised me if this place had changed as well. But the Houses of Healing was a constant. It was the only stable hold I had in this city.

Tracing my fingers along a wooden table loaded with bottles of herbs, I looked down and remembered the place Benold was positioned in the midst of battle. Sometimes, I could still hear his laugh. The more I thought of him though, the more I saw Gimli. I feared one day I would not know what Benold looked like. The two really were so similar…

The smell of peppermint touched my nose and I twirled around. The Warden came out from his room in the back where plants hung from the ceiling to dry. "Lady Finwen?"

"Hello. I suppose I'm not supposed to be loitering here anymore…" I admitted, suddenly shy. "I missed this place."

The old man kindly smiled. "You are always welcome here, young one."

"It's very quiet…" I commented, looking up the empty staircase.

"Nary a soul is here. Out feasting or living well. In the days of the King, the City has grown strong. I sense the illness has passed. Has yours?"

I nodded. "For the most part. Still… I do not know if I will ever truly recall my childhood days."

He frowned. "Such a shame… But I hope you may still make a life here. We cannot dwell on the days that have passed us."

There was no arguing his wise words, but I felt a rock in my throat. "Do you happen to know where Ioreth is?"

"Last I saw, she was with a cousin of hers." The Warden explained. "But that was some time ago. I'm not—"

"Who's down there?" A batty old voice crooned from the top of the stair. "Someone needing kingsfoil? We're growing it as fast as we can!"

My face lit up and I ran to the bottom of the staircase. "Ioreth?"

There was a pause at the top of the stairs before hurried footsteps came down the stone. Just the same with her grey hair in a taught bun and her apron crisp and white, Ioreth appeared around the corner with a pile of linens in her arms. "Finwen!"

"Hello!" I smiled up at her. "I'm afraid I've come to collect you!"

"Oh, heavens! Come here, child!" The old woman fussed, setting her things down and lifting her skirts to travel quicker down.

I went up two steps before I was engulfed in a hug. I hugged her back, glad to see her again. "I missed you so much!"

"I missed you too, dear." Ioreth smoothed my hair, still holding me tight.

We didn't pull apart for a long while. Finally, though, I had to ask. "Ioreth… I'm leaving and—"

"What?"

"I'm taking Alatar and I'm leaving the City. You must understand… I can't see him—"

"Of course, dear." Ioreth nodded, remembering my silly fancy for Faramir. And knowing her, she was the one who probably started the gossip that Eowyn and Faramir were an item. She was good at that. "And I'm going with you."

"You… you will?" I faltered.

"Of course! I'm not letting you cavort about the countryside without – good heavens, child, what is this frock you're wearing? This color is absolutely dreadful."

"Oh, Ioreth, thank you! I'm so glad!" I hugged her again. It was hard to believe I wasn't going to go it alone. That if I was brave enough, then maybe I could find company and warmth and love. I just had to speak up. "When would you like to leave?"

"After I get you into something that isn't so horrendous, I wouldn't mind whatever the date you choose." She answered, fingering the fabric of my sleeve and noting the shredded strands.

"Well… Could we go… today?"

"Today? Goodness! I've got so much packing to do!" Ioreth fluttered like the mother hen I knew her to be back up the staircase. She spoke to no one in particular the entire way up, and her voice could still be heard even when she closed her door.

I turned back to the Warden. "Is it a problem? That she's leaving with me?"

"I will miss her." He admitted. "The best I have in these Houses. But… you will miss her more if she stays. You two have my blessing."

I gave him a timid hug and thanked him for being so kind. We waited a moment more, but Ioreth called for me to follow her up so I went. I helped her load a couple baskets full of knick knacks and clothes and Ioreth managed to shove a white linen dress over my head in the process. "Much better!" She proclaimed, tossing the green dress I wore into the rubbish pile. One thing she couldn't convince me of was my corset she had managed to save 'for old time's sake.' Certainly no.

Ioreth didn't pause once to ruminate or say her farewells to the room she had occupied for years. She wasn't the type. Instead, she took the things that mattered most to her and gave me half to carry back down the stairs. After boding the Warden a lengthy good-bye, she was right behind me as we made for the stables and took Alatar away from his stall.

We brushed him well for the trip and strapped the baskets to his saddle with plenty of food and water. Though I felt bad for burdening him so, I promised this was the last journey he would take. I removed the blue fabric from his mane, groomed him well, and carefully tied it back in. The blue cloth was disintegrating from the wear, but I was determined to keep it as long as it remained intact.

Mounted with Ioreth close behind me, I snapped the reins and Alatar fled the stony prison. The passwords were still being set in order with the new King and so we met no trouble as we descended through the levels to the Gate.

When we were on the first level, I spread my arms wide (getting some strict admonishment from Ioreth) and flew through the Gate into the fields. Finally, Ioreth batted me and made me take a firm grip on the reins. "What are you thinking, child? You could have fallen off and killed yourself!"

"Sorry, Ioreth. I forgot what it was like… Like I'm spreading my wings! Freedom! I would not cry if I never again saw a room of white marble and stone."

"Nonsense." Ioreth shook her head. "Don't give me that freedom poppycock – you were out and about like a lunatic for over a week in the North. Don't think I don't know! Heavens, if you thought I wouldn't have heard about that, you don't know me at all."

I laughed and spurred Alatar along, galloping away from the walls. As we neared the remains of Rammas Echor, I stopped Alatar and turned back for one last look.

Minas Tirith stood in bright glory in the afternoon sunshine. I had wanted to do this for months… But now I felt I was leaving the City in safe hands. They no longer needed me. Strange as it may seem, I felt my own private stewardship was over. I needn't worry anymore. King Elessar was in charge now.

"I wish I had said good-bye… To Mithrandir and Peregrin and all the rest." I mused.

"Should we turn back?" Ioreth asked.

I shook my head. "No… I feel it's better this way. Besides – I feel as if I haven't left any loose ends. For once."

"For once." Ioreth repeated with doubt in her voice. Obviously, she was hinting that I should ride back to dramatically reclaim Faramir like some cheap romance novel, but I wasn't the sort. I knew when I had to step back. I had chased him enough.

"For once." I agreed.

I snapped the reins and Alatar sprinted forward. The banners of the Citadel waved proudly behind us in the distance. I was determined never to see them again.


	49. Let Go : The First

**Reminder:: **This is one of the last disclaimers, but I shall proclaim it once more. I do not own the strong references found below!

I can see the finish line…!

As always, thank you for reading!

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Nine :: Let Go  
Part One**

* * *

Not more than four days of travel brought Ioreth and I to the furthest outskirts of Rohan where a small village was situated in the middle of vacant nowhere. Because we were out of water, we decided this was where we would stop. And make our home.

The first steps after dismounting Alatar were a little shaky. All day on horseback and riddled with nerves, we peered around. There was only one road that was weather beaten from passing travelers. A stone well with a rickety rope line without a bucket marked the edge of town. Besides for the wooden shacks, homes, and smithies along the path, that was it.

Upon further investigation, we found there were open fields beyond the village where an arm of the Entwash met the Mering Stream. So Ioreth and I rode a few miles further and found ourselves in a pretty little field with a steady water source.

Unloading everything off Alatar, I took the water gourd and made for the river for a refill. Ioreth carefully watched me from the horse, hesitantly opening one of her baskets. "Finwen?"

I looked over my shoulder, still not used to her saying that name. She rarely said it when I lived in the Houses and now it just felt weird and wrong. Technically, I was deceiving her by not telling her my real name.

"What exactly are we doing here?"

"First," I started, capping off the second pouch of water. I had tasted it, swished it around in my mouth, and decided I've had worse. "I have to tell you. I would like if you did not call me Finwen anymore."

The old woman gave me a strange look, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

"My name is Sarah."

Her eyes softened. I could tell she was wondering what else I had neglected to tell her. In our days of riding, we were unusually quiet. Of course we spoke and often, but it was about nothings and of little importance. We were most concerned getting our mind off of Gondor as a whole and the only things we could say about ourselves were concerned with the realm. So we had done better making comments on the scenery or complaints about being squished in one saddle.

We looked away from each other, tending to more things to make camp. Or at least I did. Ioreth was still fingering her basket ties.

While unpacking the necessities to build our strange tent structure (made from a blanket from the houses and a bunch of sticks), I cleared the grass as best I could with my boots and found many of the flowers I was crushing were small and white. Upon further investigation, I found whole bushes of the plant. Camellia Sasanqua flowers. What were the odds?

When I was about to make the connection to Ioreth, she spoke up. "You never answered me, dear. Is this a stop? A camp?"

"Home." I looked up from the flowers and smiled.

"Out here? There's not a soul!"

"I thought it would be best." I said, ignoring the weeds for now and pulling the blanket tighter over the sticks and staking the mesh down into the grass.

"We'll be nomads? Tent people? Really, dear, you need to give me something more." Ioreth put her hands on her hips, taking authority.

"No, no, no." I shook my head, pushing a tent pole up. I pitied Alatar for having to carry all of this. "We'll live here. We're a few minutes ride from a decent village and by the looks of it, they could use a horse-master in these parts."

"Horse-master?" She asked. Ioreth shook her head. "You're out of your mind if you think you can build a ranch by yourself."

"Am I?" I asked, looking at the clouds. They lazily passed and a quick, cool breeze swept through. It felt nice in the summer heat. I laughed. "Hm. Perhaps I am. But you can't argue – I'm determined! And this is what I know. It's not embroidery or flower arrangements or dances or halls with kings. I work with my hands. I raise chickens. I birth foals. Maybe we'll have a dog – who knows? It's… home."

I could tell she still wasn't convinced with this 'man's work.' Stepping over the jumbled tent ropes, I gave her arm a nudge. "Besides, I won't be alone. And this village could use a couple of prosperous doctors, hm?"

"Doctor_s_?" She scoffed with emphasis on the plural. "You barely know your barley from your thyme!"

"That's not true—!"

"Pish posh! If this village is going to be needing medical attention, I'll be the one to take care of it. Grow me the right herbs with those man hands of yours before you start bringing fowl and all the rest!"

I gave her a hug, finally satisfied. That night, we rested in the tent after a small supper. The heat of the sun was gone, but I could still feel it under my skin when I closed my eyes.

The following week was filled with intense physical labor. Of course, I wasn't going to be able to build a house out of nothing on my own – with or without Ioreth. So I went into the village and bribed a few villagers with the prospect of a village medic. Luckily, they were quite taken with the idea of Ioreth around and got to work gathering the right materials from the distant forest and from vacated buildings along the road.

Although it was questionable why two women were living by themselves, I just told the nosey villagers that my husband was still in Minas Tirith under the company of the King. After this lie, I was honored a little higher and the slightly creepy older men in the party stopped looking me up and down.

Though carts and wagons came in a town effort to build a house, we had barely gotten the walls up after the ruddy foundations when the week was spent. It took a week more for a roof to be secured above our two room shack. It wasn't beautiful, but at least we had shade now. I swear that my skin darkened a few permanent shades in those two long weeks.

One night under the light of a lamp burning off pig fat, I sat at our only table while Ioreth refilled our water by the river. I was engulfed in my parchment, so I didn't hear her as she approached from behind and looked over my shoulder. "What are you drawing, Sarah?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of her voice and swishing dress. I was back in boy's clothes – the tunic and pants with my old boots that I missed. Again, this wasn't very strange because most of the women in the village were more than willing to understand I had work to do that couldn't be accomplished in a dress. We certainly chose a kind-hearted town. My long blonde hair as pulled into a tight pony tail at the top of my head. Feeling so nostalgic, it almost felt wrong when she didn't call me 'Lady.' Still, it had taken her long enough to say 'Sarah,' so I wasn't about to spoil one of her first times with my real name.

"They're plans." I said, covering part of my parchment with my arm. It was unnecessary though – Ioreth could not read.

She squinted at the papers anyways, not believing me. To distract her and fearing she could in fact read, I started a new topic. "Ioreth, you said to me once that everything you needed was 'up here.'" I tapped my temple. "You know everything there is to know about herbs and remedies and all that, don't you?"

Taken a bit off guard, she stopped her squinting and feigned modesty. "Oh… I wouldn't say that…"

"I will if you won't." I countered with a smirk. "I want to write a book."

"A book? What good is a book?"

"I want you to tell me everything you know and I want to write it down. Let's face it – we're not going to live forever. If our knowledge dies with us, what good have we really done? Let me pen this down. But only if you wish it. I wouldn't want to make you do something out of your comforts."

Ioreth smiled and shook her head. "Speak of books later. You've enough on your platter and it's grown late."

I agreed and decided to let the fat burn out by leaving the lamp on the table for the night. I also left my papers, not concerned anymore about Ioreth. She wouldn't bother with them anyways. Like she said herself: what good is a book? To her anyways. I yawned, feeling the heat of the summer even stronger this night. In fact, it felt more like a fog that was slowly settling over my brain.

That night I slept in a feverish state. And I didn't wake up until August.

* * *

Ironically, the new village medic came crying for help to the townspeople the next morning. Her young companion would not wake. With the proper materials from a few women who were willing to help, Ioreth felt she could handle Sarah by herself, but they insisted to ride along back to the shack and see what they could do to comfort the old woman from Gondor.

When they returned, Sarah was sweating and fighting her blankets in her dreams. The women cooled her down with river water and forced her to drink. They went about stripping her of her tunic and setting her up in a proper night gown. Without much else to do, the few women of the village took orders from Ioreth and prepared herb potions to keep busy. It might help the girl if she would inhale the scent of calming plants burning.

Throughout the evening and into the night, Sarah would not wake. She panicked and cried and made quite a show of herself. It scared those present half to death.

Feeling bad for Ioreth, two women of the village agreed to spend the night. The eldest with a hooked nose made some tea over the fire and served them all. Ioreth was so worried to leave the girl's side that she was hard to persuade to even receive a cup of tea. Sarah's occasional moan could be heard by the three who settled themselves around the table in the main room.

Ioreth was about to stand, but the elder of the two patted her wrist and she sat back down again. "She'll be alright. Just a nasty fever."

"A wonder, no?" The second said, a good thirty years younger than the other two. "She looked so strong… Probably all the man's work she's done since she arrived."

"I knew it." Ioreth shook her head, berating herself. "I shouldn't have let her onto such fancies! She's but a girl!"

The woman with the hooked nose nodded and sniffed, as if she could smell something amiss with Sarah. "Young ones these days… So headstrong. Ludicrous that her husband hasn't shown up, if you ask me!"

Ioreth wondered at this, but knew better to hold her tongue. She just shook her head sadly. How many lies did she tell? Did she lie to Ioreth, too? Who else had Sarah lied to? She changed the subject. "I'll be begging your pardon, but why is it that you do not speak Rohirric? I didn't know Westron was used in these parts."

"It's not called the Common Tongue for sport." The first said. "I was born into Westron. My father was the only one to speak Rohirric in my family."

"The world is so scattered… I hope this new King over in Gondor can figure things and put them right." The second sighed, staring into her tea cup.

The elders fidgeted with gossip about the happenings in Minas Tirith, but both decided to forget the rumors and sip at their tea. At this moment, Sarah let out another loud cry of alarm. This time Ioreth was not stopped when she hurried into the next room.

"Poor dear." The first woman sighed.

The second peered at the table, this time a bit closer than she had before. Finally, her curiosity got the best of her and she picked up one of the many papers.

The eldest rubbed her bulbous nose and turned to the other, noticing she was reading. "What's that you've got?"

"I'm not sure… It's so bizarre—"

Ioreth re-entered the room with a hanging head, rubbing her hands on her apron. "She's quiet now… Her nightmares seem to be worsening."

"Miss Ioreth?" The youngest asked, holding the paper up for her to see. Ioreth immediately wrinkled her brow. "Did you write this?"

"Are you reading, child?" The first woman asked.

Both women looked at the girl suspiciously as she slouched slightly in her chair. "My… My father was a messenger in Edoras. Papa taught me to read when I was little. He said it was important."

"Bah!" Hooked Nose shook her head. "Nonsense! Words and books are trivial. Little use, if you ask me—"

"Why? What does it say?" Ioreth interrupted, sitting back down at the table with more interest.

The youngest picked up the paper again. "Mind, some of the words are a little unfamiliar to me… But it seems to be addressed to her husband? Letters?"

Ioreth took the papers, looking them over foolishly for a moment before she remembered she could not unravel the code before her. Spreading the pages out, Ioreth asked: "What do they say? Can you read them? Aloud?"

Now confident they did not belong to Ioreth, the young woman felt her face grow warm with embarrassment. "It's not really my place to—"

"Heavens, if you can read them, read them!" Hooked Nose insisted on Ioreth's behalf.

Taking up the first page she saw, the youngest cleared her throat and read: "'Dear… F-Far…' I'm sorry; I don't know that word…"

"Says she can read…" The first woman muttered.

With more determination, the second read on. "'I know I will never send these, but it's nice to pre-pretend.' Um… she goes on to say something about… Hold on, I can read this: '—sorry to have left in such a hurry without good-bye. If only I cold' – er – 'could say these things I've always wanted to say to you…' Should I continue?"

Ioreth's head buzzed. She picked up another letter and gave it to the girl. "Here, try this one. What does this say?"

Taking the new paper, she cleared her throat and began somewhere in the middle: "'Sometimes I wish I could be a lady of the c-cur-court and be by your side, but I know know-now.' Sorry. 'I know now that it can never be. It …tears me apart, but I need to be free – in the open where I can see the sky without stone walls. If I can make a new life for me-myself I know I will be able to forget. It always tends to work in ...fic…fic-ti…? Fic-ti-own?' Oh! 'Fiction!'"

Ioreth was putting the pieces together rapidly. Separating the pages, she asked: "And how many are there? How many did she write?"

"Um…" The woman looked over the pages carefully, checking each heading. "It appears she wrote a letter once a day. At least. For a few weeks, maybe? Let's see… the earliest day I see is perhaps a day or two after Midsummer? She continues until just last night on July 19th."

"Are you sure, Ioreth, that the girl's not waiting on but _running _from her husband? It's what it sounds like to me by all this 'leaving without good-bye' nonsense." The first woman suggested grimly.

Ioreth sank back in her chair. She wasn't about to confide Sarah's problems with strangers. "It's… complicated, I'm afraid."

The old woman left the two out by the table where the oil lamp was still burning and brought herself before the sickly girl in bed. Ioreth sat beside the bundle of blankets on the floor, not yet with a cot, and stroked Sarah's hair from her pasty face in the dark. "Oh, child… I should never have agreed to go with you… I should have made you stay. Foolish, girl! You'll kill yourself with thoughts like these…"

* * *

I opened my eyes and was immediately blinded.

There was no sound for a long time. Just a buzz. The buzz became a beep and with a sensation like plastic rustling in my ear, I heard an excited voice beside me.

"—God! She's …up! Waking—!"

The secret I had kept closest was being unfolded before me. The split between dimensions I had felt all along. My mind rattled with the possibility I would not wake up in Middle-Earth and I opened my eyes, hoping beyond all hope…

What I saw was certainly not Middle-Earth. A flat tiled ceiling and a colorful blue balloon in my peripheral. I tried to lift my head, but the strain was too great with no result, so I gave up trying to move my neck.

"Sarah? Sarah, can you hear me? It's Mommy! Mommy's here, baby! Can you look at me?"

Rolling my eyes as much as I could to my right, I saw my mother. Her hair was a lot shorter than I remembered, cropped closely under her chin. Her eyes were puffy and red and her face was wrinkled. She had gained some weight, too.

I couldn't form words. There was something in my mouth anyways. I could barely feel it though. My lips told me it was plastic and I was salivating all over it, but I didn't know what it could be or where it went. It touched my throat, but after that, it just disappeared.

When I looked back at my mother, she was standing. She shouted something at the door before frantically sitting back down again. I saw my hand in hers, but I didn't know she had been holding it. Guess I couldn't feel that either.

"Mr. McLaughlin…? Yes, your wife… – daughter Sarah." A voice that belonged to a ponytailed nurse in pink informed the man in the hall. He sprinted into the room and took a seat next to Mom.

The absence of hair threw me off along with the new, darker rimmed glasses. He had a tie hastily thrown about his neck that I was dying to fix and he was much thinner than I remembered. Dad.

"Hey, honey…" He smiled at me, resting his hand on mine. "Can you hear me, Sarah?"

"I'm afraid she won't be able to recognize you." A doctor whose presence had gone unnoticed by me until now spoke up from my left. "The brain damage—"

"But look at her eyes!" My mother defended me. "She's looking right at us!"

"Confusion. And curiosity is my guess." The doctor nodded. I couldn't look to my left as far as I could to my right, so I had no idea what he looked like. His voice sounded like he was past fifty.

My father tried to talk to me anyways. "Sarah, you were in an accident. Do you remember?"

_Of course I remembered the accident!_ The scraping of metal and the crunch of the car's shell and motor were forever imprinted in my brain. A brain that this doctor said I didn't have. I tried to tell my father that yes, I remembered. _I'm so sorry for going on that stupid ride! I didn't even want to go…! I tried to tell them to slow down! God, where are they? And what happened to you guys? Why does everything look—?_

"—tried to warn you that this might happen." The doctor was calmly explaining. "To put it out right, I'm afraid she's more or less a vegetable."

_A vegetable?-! How dare you!_

"Is there any hope for rehabilitation?" Dad asked.

My mother wiped her eyes at the doctor's negative response. "Sarah? Sarah, it's okay… Can she hear us?"

"I highly doubt it." The doctor lied again and then tried to comfort them.

_I can hear you! I can see you! I'm not stupid! I'm… trapped. I'm trapped in this stupid, numb body and my mouth won't work and I'm scared and I want to feel my legs and I want to go home where Alatar is and I want to see Ioreth – God, what was going on?_

Mom covered her mouth and the monitor started to beep louder. The doctor went about fixing it as I realized why my head felt so heavy. My body felt… gone. I gave my mother the most questioning look I could muster, but she didn't understand. She held my hand to her face and rocked back and forth, saying something I was having trouble hearing.

My father tried to fill me in, set on his own track of rehabilitating me against the doctor's prospects. "Sarah, you're twenty-six. If you can hear me, blink, okay?"

I tried to blink, but I wasn't sure if it worked for some reason. I was having trouble with the easiest tasks…

My parents got excited, so I must've blinked. The doctor hadn't made any noises in awhile. I started to wonder if he left.

"Sarah, you're paralyzed – don't panic, okay? You broke your neck in the accident." Daddy said slowly and carefully. "You'll be okay though, alright? You're okay, kiddo."

"Sh, sh—" Mom stroked my face.

It hit me all at once. Asleep for eight years. Paralyzed. Broken neck. Middle-Earth? How had the passage of time differed so greatly? Was it all a dream I was having? Back in this reality, it was hard to believe any of it was real. But… I had to go back! I wanted to go back. In that world I had Ioreth. I couldn't leave her… I had a loyal, beautiful steed. I had the honor of speaking with the greatest King of Men. I had friends in the Shire. I had met the White Wizard. I had seen the beauty of the elves and the skill of the dwarves. I had known what it was like to be in love, even if I lost it. I had legs.

I started to panic. What if I lost all of that? What had I lost here? My siblings had spent eight years without me – where was Stephanie now? Lord, she would be in high school. Simon wasn't a baby anymore. What was he climbing now? Certainly not the refrigerator.

_I want to go home! I want to go home!_

My words fell on deaf ears. All that came out was a strange, garbled moaning noise as I tried to speak with the tube in my mouth. I doubted my tongue would work in this world if the tube was gone. All too soon I realized I didn't have my braces anymore. But instead of feeling elated, I felt the opposite. Most of my teeth had been knocked out.

I tried to scream and push and do _anything_, but I could not. All I could do was moan and prove the doctor's point that I was just a vegetable who didn't know who or what anything was. I was dumb.

The only thing I could do was cry. Tears tracked down my face and Mom brushed them away, ignoring her own. The doctor was suddenly at my side and a light was shining in my face. The monitor buzzed angrily and a nurse swung around the corner. The doctor shouted something and the nurse left, returning a second later with two nurses behind her and a stand of equipment.

Mom was speaking, but I couldn't hear her again. Dad was trying to comfort me, too, but it was useless. I stared at them, trying my best to communicate. _Let me go… Let me go…_

Was I going to die? Would it be possible to go back?

I suddenly knew. And I felt glad.

The connection was about to be broken. I would be loyal to one life. And unrequited love was nothing compared to all of this. I would rather live in a world where I knew that I had lost… than feel nothing at all.

"Lrr…" I grumbled through the mouth piece.

The nurses were moving around my parents, doing their best with them in the way. They weren't going anywhere.

"Lee…" I tried again. "Leett… grrr… Leeet… grrroo… Lett gro… goo…"

My mother nodded, looking me straight in the eye. Clutching mother's shoulder, Dad asked what I was saying and she repeated it. "Let go."

With all my might, I found that God was merciful. I shakily squeezed her hand and smiled before my eyelids blocked out the harsh lights and my ears tuned out the shouts.


	50. Let Go : The Second

**Reminder:: **What do I say? I don't own the last fifty chapters? No. I don't own these _fifty-one_ chapters. Well, at least not their influence, names, and places. I mean… this took a lot of work! I want some credit. xD

This is it! One more! It literally took me to the last day of June to keep my promise, but here it is. Finished.

* * *

**Chapter Fifty :: Let Go  
Part Two**

* * *

I don't know if I will ever… forget. If I can leave everything behind. If I can keep up the lie.

The days will pass, but somehow I cannot seem to give up hope. There will come a day when I will be happy again. And I'm determined to do that now – on my own. I can find happiness in myself and the world around me. I will be alive again.

Maybe I'll meet someone new. Maybe I should have told Mordred yes. Maybe I'll die alone with but a memory. Maybe I over think things.

I am grateful to be here. I am grateful that I no longer have the nightmares and the feeling of forgetting something. I am grateful to have somebody to go home to. That I have one world and one life.

But the dreams do not end. I'll see his face and awake to nothing or touch the seven-pointed necklace hidden beneath my robes. Either way, I have to start all over again. But I'll always find the light at the end of the tunnel. I'll always go on. And that gives me peace.

One question still haunts me.

Am I a coward for running away? Or am I brave for letting go?

* * *

The Steward Faramir was… in short – excited. He was feeling a whole plethora of emotions, but in a time when he was supposed to be making the decisions for himself at long last, it seemed that he was simply following orders again. His path was laid before his feet, unbroken and one way. Yet there was no question. There was nothing for him to worry about anymore and for once, everything seemed to be perfect.

The White Lady of the Riddermark had left for the time, but the summer months would leave faster than Faramir could notice them. It was agreed they would take care of the deceased King Théoden and properly place Eomer on the throne before any wedding plans would ensue and Eowyn could return to Gondor where she would take up residence with him in Ithilien. How fast things were moving! To think – less than a month ago, Faramir had not known Eowyn's face at all. Now he was to have his own princedom and be married before the winter.

Not to mention Finwen – she had really become quite dear to him somehow. And all those long, troublesome hours of brewing and dwelling had finally answered themselves. How could Faramir think of Finwen in such a way? It had been a misunderstanding, of course. Faramir realized he must have cared for Finwen as a brother. He had never had a sister, but the thought made things less confusing and painful when she announced her betrothal to the guard of the Citadel Mordred. That night haunted him, but if Faramir told himself that Finwen was a younger sister, things really were not as difficult anymore. Glad that was cleared up.

Or was it? Damn, it had come up again.

Faramir was on his way to do something he should have done in June when Finwen had told him. July was nearly over and still he had neglected to offer his congratulations. Some 'brother' he was.

There was no clinking chain mail or heavy silver armor breast plates or gauntlets of leather. Ceremony had taken the place of tradition since the return of King Elessar. There was no war to fight. Men had traded their swords for tools to rebuild the White City and their armor for lighter clothes fit for long afternoons in the hot sun. Women returned to the city and the families opened the fields of harvest again. Faramir had never seen such bliss in so short a time.

Still, as Steward, Faramir would not leave all decorum behind. The knobbed rod in his right hand clicked evenly with his footsteps as he made his way down the hall on this personal visit. Unlike his father, Faramir would not wait in the White Hall. He refused to be idle as long as his legs could carry him, so the young Steward walked Minas Tirith as he always had.

The sound of the cane reminded him of Mithrandir's white staff. He had known the wizard better in grey with a gnarled stick for a staff. Faramir would be sad when the wizard would leave with the hobbits. They had not spoken nearly enough.

Finwen had apparently spent some time with Mithrandir. The wizard spoke highly of the girl – a surprise in and of itself. Mithrandir was never one for triviality. His compliments would not be taken lightly. The Lord Faramir was still having a hard time comprehending little, defenseless Finwen swooping through the skies on an eagle. It was almost a joke. She did not belong on daring adventures… She was too fragile.

Faramir could distinctly remember the listlessness in her face when he saw her in the White Hall. Finwen was always like that around his father. Then again, she had spent more time with Denethor than anyone had in the last twenty odd years or so. Even Boromir liked to keep his distance.

So perhaps she wasn't as weak as he thought. No matter. Finwen was still a child. Barely into her twenties… not more than three years junior to Eowyn…? But Eowyn was strong and… she had a certain majesty that… Why was he thinking of Finwen again? Why debate this? Such thoughts were absurd. Eowyn and Finwen were two completely separate people. They had… nothing in common.

Following the winding stair of the high Citadel, Faramir was greeted by half a dozen comrades who knew him as their Captain. He was pointed in the right direction and found himself quicker than he imagined in a guard tower overlooking the City.

Faramir did not see him at first. The young man was sitting in the corner, angling the sunlight falling on his sword so it shone against the wall. The metal glinted and lit up a small window across the streets. Faramir recognized it as one from the Houses of Healing.

"Are you signaling someone?"

Mordred practically dropped the sword in surprise. Straightening up from his slouch, the soldier stood erect and bowed. "Nay, my lord. Was just… What service may I offer the Steward of the White Hall?"

"No service with you." Faramir shook his head. "I come to offer my personal congratulations and my blessing."

Mordred relaxed his shoulders as fast as he had lifted them. "Congratulations, my lord?"

Faramir furrowed his eyebrows, leaning casually on the Steward's rod. "Congratulations on your upcoming marriage! I have not made it a popular fact, but the Lady Finwen means very much to me. I am glad that she is in safe hands."

The young man's face dramatically changed and was replaced with a forlorn glower. Lord Faramir watched him in confusion. "If you know her so well, she would have told you she refused my proposal. In Ithilien… my lord. She's left Minas Tirith."

Now the rod was used for support as Faramir nearly gaped in shock. He could quickly compose himself though, so the soldier was not alarmed. An overwhelming embarrassment and shame crept up his spine – he had to quiz a man he had never formally spoken to about someone he apparently cared 'very much' for.

"Left. Finwen told you this?" Faramir asked.

"No, my lord, the Warden in the Houses. I went to…" Mordred debated telling his lord of the more than rude scenario in which he had left the Lady Finwen and how he went to reconcile and found himself too late. Finally, he ignored it and said: "He claims she left with the maid Ioreth. They didn't have a destination in mind."

_She left? Just… gone? What reason did Finwen have to leave?_

Unfortunately, the truth crashed upon the young Steward in a great wave before the more than suspicious Mordred who was currently reading him like a book. Faramir placed the pieces together, solving the riddle of Finwen and subsequently – himself. The stories, the laughter, before she left for the eagles, that night he had to leave to the night she coldly congratulated him and lied to his face – all those ridiculous letters!

So…

She had loved him after all.

And Faramir had opened the gate and slapped her horse.

* * *

The Fellowship left King Eomer on August 14th. Sometime in the days after, Faramir found himself riding with Eowyn at his side bound for Ithilien. Travelling east upon the road in a caravan, the royals and their party passed through a small village at sunset. They prepared to camp for the night.

Though the village was barely a town with only a few houses, smithies, and a stone well, the townsfolk were more than welcoming and aided in the set up of tents and cots and hot meals. They were honored to house the Lady of Rohan and her intended.

Eowyn was fatigued. The stress of her beloved uncle's death was upon her and for the first time since the Houses, she showed a deep physical pain at his loss. She was quickly set up in bed with a wet cloth over her forehead.

Faramir nervously paced the floor. A woman with an unnaturally large hooked nose wrung out the cloth and replaced it fresh. She sniffed and spoke up to him: "Worry won't do any good, my lord. She's quite alright. Worn out from travel, I suspect. Right as rain by morning."

Her short sentences did little to comfort him. "Isn't there something that can be done? Something to ease her mind?"

The woman left Eowyn's side and made for the door. "Well, if it's a remedy of some sort you're looking for, I'd direct you to the village midwife. Delivered two babes since she arrived and an esteemed medicine woman from the Houses of Healing."

"A medicine woman? Where may I find her?"

"Down the hill away from the village. She lives on a small ranch with a cousin of some sort, I reckon. They're by the river."

* * *

Horse hooves softly stamped the tall grass. A dirt path was slowly being worn down to the famed doctor's home by the river from panicked people in need. The Lord Faramir could see a smoke stack rising from a small shack with a single lit window. Chickens clucked lazily in the evening haze next to their coop and a dark horse stood under a shaded enclosure. The river was quiet.

A silhouette framed the open door as Faramir approached on his horse. Servants and riders offered to find the woman themselves, but Faramir felt it best he go instead of fussing over Eowyn. He never liked feeling useless.

The woman's face was unreadable with the absence of light. She was holding a dish rag of sorts. She had stood motionless when the light touched him.

"Is this where I may find the medicine woman I have heard of? I am in need of a remedy which some have told me she is capable of." He stated.

The woman cleared her throat. "I am she. Might I ask what the Steward Faramir is doing in a small village of Rohan?"

Faramir suddenly recognized her lop-sided, tight bun on her grey head and the prim posture. The smock she wore was one from the Houses. "Ioreth?"

The woman nodded again, stepping out and shutting the door behind her. Light from the window still illuminated the two and now Faramir could see the old woman's face. It was not pleased. "I said I am she. What may I do for you?"

He was having one of those rare moments when he was at a loss for words. Faramir stumbled and said: "Eowyn – she's fatigued… I was in search of a remedy that could ease her mind."

"No such thing." Ioreth shrugged blatantly. "You can have her smell some herbs though to relax. Actually, I think I still have some lavender in the cupboard. A moment."

Spinning on her heel, Ioreth opened the door and closed it behind her. Faramir waited on his saddle, unsure if he was welcome to dismount. Cupboards opened and shut within.

Finally, Ioreth reappeared on the stoop with the violet flower in hand. She handed it up to Faramir and gave him directions. "Find a dish, put this in it, and set it aflame. Keep it in the lady's room for the night. It will help her sleep sounder. Make sure the fragrance reaches her. It won't burn long."

Faramir nodded lamely and secured the stems in the saddlebag. He held the reins and looked at the shack awkwardly. "I was told you left Minas Tirith. It was difficult to believe."

Ioreth wasn't a fan of small talk. "Yes, I left. It's just something one does… for someone they love."

If it wasn't more obvious she was trying to shame him, it was just made all the more clear. Faramir said: "Is she well? I never wished her to leave."

"What did you expect her to do?" Ioreth asked, enjoying the absence of formality. This was not his country and she did not owe him any respect. "Linger? See your heirs born? I don't take Sarah's affections lightly, Steward."

They were silent for a time. Finally, Ioreth looked to the house anxiously and shooed him with her hands. "It'd be best if you leave."

Faramir nodded sadly, disappointed that he had found Finwen (or now, Sarah) but wasn't even allowed to see her.

A rustling noise within told the pair Finwen was inside. Ioreth shooed him further and wrung her hands in a frantic whisper. "Please! Go! She was just starting to smile again…"

"I understand." Faramir agreed and turned his steed about. He quickly spurred the horse on and left as quickly as he had come.


	51. How Far We've Come

**Reminder:: **The Lord of the Rings franchise belongs to the Tolkien estate and all associates. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-One :: How Far We've Come**

* * *

Faramir sat down to write a letter. A letter that he had wanted to write, almost wrote, didn't write, and finally broke down and wrote now. With guilt and sorrow pent up and spilling on the pages, he finished as he penned:

_Eowyn has died. The woman I knew to be so strong faced the same fate as my mother and could not move out of the shadow of childbirth. He is Elboron – we had agreed upon the name. It is the only memory she has left behind._

_And so I selfishly send this letter detailing my thoughts and all the words I had left unsaid. You deserved so much more than this, Sarah. My only hope is that you can forgive me after how far we've come. But I will always understand if you refuse._

_With this I ask you send back the color red if you no longer wish my love. The color white is my dearest hope, that you would be willing in the attempt at such that we should have had long ago. _

_To the family of Sarah, send the shade of black if she no longer walks this land. That she has retired to the Halls of Mandos, in which I will see her again when my day comes. _

He ended without his numerous titles and put simply: _Faramir_.

* * *

"My lord?" A man peered into the room before presenting himself.

Faramir looked up from his papers with a tired but ever-hopeful stare in his dim grey eyes.

After a short word, the Prince of Ithilien quite literally leapt from his chair and hastened down the steps. All who saw him wondered as their leader ran like a school boy to see the messenger come.

The poor man barely dismounted his horse when Faramir was upon him. Breathing heavily from the sprint, he asked: "Word? From Rohan?"

"Barely, my lord." The messenger replied, lifting the flap of his leather rucksack. "Just this – I've never seen anything like it. Is it some sort of code?"

"Yes… it is." Faramir took up in his hand the delicate Camellia Sasanqua flower, glowing bright white in the afternoon sunshine.


	52. Credits

Wow! No more reminders! This is my credit page for all the reviewers who helped me get through writing this. Thanks for reading and supporting me all this way!

And thank you to anyone reading this in the future. I hope you enjoyed the story!

So that's a wrap! Are you happy or sad that it's over? Angry at the quick switch at the end? Overjoyed I actually wrote a happily ever after? Though I almost never do, I think this turned out on a cliff hanger of sorts. We're left to assume that Faramir and Sarah could pick up the pieces and be happy together raising Elboron and maybe children of their own. Disgruntled? I completely understand – I usually hate stories that do this to me. xD

Thank you again – I hope you enjoyed this two year ride with me. What a project! It might be easier if you just ctrl F your name. Mind, I had to exchange periods in usernames for spaces because it would just delete them. If you reviewed before these last two chapters – you're in here and I owe you my gratitude! =)

* * *

**Credits**

* * *

**aandm20** :: My very first review. Ever! You can't imagine how happy you made me just stating your interest. xD Thank you so much and I hope you read all the way through!

**ForeverisGone13** :: Thanks so much for the early support! I hope you enjoyed!

**Distant Lands** :: Thank you, thank you, thank you! You did quite a bit of reviewing and commenting, so I really owe you one. =) You were a great motivation for me. Thank you and I hope you liked how things turned out!

**Evelienhs** :: Your first review was such a shocking compliment to me. This was the first time I ever wrote a full story and posted it online and you motivated me so much. I hope I improved and you followed along with a smile. Thank you! n_n

**Goldenfightergirl** :: I love your… forwardness. xD Thanks for taking the time to review – and ask questions! Hope you enjoyed the story!

**fatimah7860** :: Thank you for reading and reviewing and giving me so much support. I hope the story was fun for you to read. Thank you so much!

**Fool's Ivory Wings** :: I loved hearing your insight. You made me feel so much better! I was desperately trying to avoid a Mary Sue, and I hope I was successful and you enjoyed the story. Thank you so much for your support! =D

**GAMF Fatlard Hobos** :: Your username is so silly! xD Anyways, thank you so much for taking the time to give me your opinion. It really helps! You gave me great compliments that motivated me to keep going even when I was stuck. Thanks so much and I hope you enjoyed!

**colbub** :: You reviewed on almost every chapter. Thank you so much! You were such a great motivator, always giving fun comments and perception. Thank you for your time and I hope the story lived up to all your hopes. Thanks for reading and sticking around! =D

**B.T. Nagomo** :: I'm glad my story could draw you in so quickly! Thanks for sharing the excitement and I hope you liked how things turned out in the end. n_n

**Scylla's revenge** :: Thank you so much for reading. You gave me great advice and you were an awesome crutch as I worked my way through this! I hope you enjoyed how things panned out and the romance and canon character interaction was enough. I'm still learning! n_n' Thank you for everything!

**CeresMaria** :: Thank you for reviewing the story! Every comment counts! =) Thanks for being there and I hope you liked the story.

**Of-Light-and-Shadow** :: Thank you so much for your compliments and interest! It helps so much to know people are actually reading this. xD Thank you!

**iheartanime07** :: Thank you so much! You've been around for quite awhile and your reviews are always a joy to see. Thanks for reading and I hope things turned out in your favor. n_n

**MoonShadow396** :: Glad you were rooting for Faramir to end up with Finwen/Sarah! =D Hope you're happy then how the story ended even though it didn't look too promising for awhile. Thanks for reading!

**Tetraforce** :: Thank you for your early chapter reviews! I hope you continued reading and you liked how things panned out in the end. =)

**ZabuzasGirl**:: I remember you most for your first review: "Update please" xD Thank you! Hope I updated fast enough – even though I do tend to slack for awhile and then rapid update. x_x Hope you liked the story!

**Lily de Paris** :: I wanted to assure you that your English was fine. x3 And furthermore – thanks for the insight! I love questions; it shows you're really thinking about what you're reading. Thanks for reviewing!

**MizoreTakeda** :: Ha, thank you! Your first review made me laugh so hard. "…this is some intense shit you got right here." xD Thank you so much! Hope you enjoyed.

**Almecestris**:: Thank you so much! "One of the best OC in the fandom" made my heart melt. Not to mention your picture of Tom Felton. x3 You were so great and supportive – thank you so much! I don't really know what else to say. n_n' I hope you enjoyed the story and thank you for reading!

**TheLadyAranel** :: Thanks for reviewing! Sorry I stole your name… xD Didn't mean for that to happen, but I have a pretty common name, too. That's why I use Lucy. =3 Anyways, thank you! Hope you liked it!

**C J Shortz ** :: I think you have one of my favorite reviews of all time. Don't remember? Here you go: "BAD. ASS. Like, one cannot put into words how awesome this was. Finwen, save your Faramir! He called your name, so that means go ape-shit all over and become awesome. Enter, Finwen the Messiah." You're such a hero! xD Thanks so much for reading! Hope she was bad ass enough for you before the end. x3

**CrocScale** :: I'm glad you reviewed! =) Thanks for reading and following along with me. Hope you liked how I ended things!

**Cetacea-of-Time** :: Surprise! They _both_ ended up with Faramir! I'm such a cheap shot. xD Thanks for reading and reviewing! Hope you had a good time! =)

**Abi TheBakersGirl** :: I'm sorry I made you cry! I write depressing things too often… Hope you liked _How Far We've Come_ anyways. =D Thanks for reviewing!


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